


Chloe's Fall

by Savagita



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Post-Season/Series 03A AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2020-07-21 08:08:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 28,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19998661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Savagita/pseuds/Savagita
Summary: What if Chloe was terrified of Lucifer? And what if Lucifer handled it badly?





	1. Immortal

**Author's Note:**

> I'm new to fanfic, new to AO3, and my only beta is a fish (so when you find a gaff, you can be sure it is 100% mine and 100% unintentional). Advice and constructive crit welcome. Chapter total is a guess, I'm about 1/2 way there with the draft... Wish me luck!

Denial flickered like a bad television station.

 _It is all true. It can’t be._ What the hell had happened? _It’s all true._ Was this Hell? It couldn’t be. Was he burned? Was she dead?

Her breath became shallow and unmoored, a clammy feeling crawling across her palms. (So not dead, then.) Her pulse was painfully elevated, her limbs numb. She blinked. 

“Detective?”

His voice startled her feet into action, a clumsy, hasty retreat that lacked any sort of subtly. She hadn’t the will even to stop herself.

 _It was all true._

He was _the_ Lucifer. The Devil. Satan. 

And maybe she wasn’t dead, but Marcus certainly was. Everything inside of her was screaming, “Run – you’re next!” But Chloe couldn’t feel her legs anymore. She bumped into something behind her, but didn’t bother looking. She needed all her focus not to hyperventilate.

A memory of their first meeting bubbled up, unbidden. “Immortal,” he’d said. But she wasn’t. And Marcus obviously wasn’t. Her thoughts snagged on the word, _immortal,_ watching him. The word had always conjured up images of unchanging, marbled perfection, of serenity… but Lucifer looked like he had been flayed alive. _Does it still hurt?_ Did living forever mean an eternity in anguish?

_I always forget, do you spell that with one ‘m’ or two?_

How flippant she’d been. How foolish.

He stood, head tilted quizzically, as though trying to discern her meaning. Had she spoken to him? Was he speaking to her? She didn’t remember. She couldn’t make herself hear. The way his eyes danced with fire, she could barely make herself breath.

 _Breath,_ she told herself, focusing inward. _Bring the air in, then let it out._

She faltered, thinking “immortal,” again. 

There was no way he was British. Was he possessing some sod from the UK? 

She looked at the ground where Marcus' body lay, knife cantilevered out from his chest at a jagged angle. It had hardly been a fair fight: mortal Lieutenant versus the immortal Lord of Hell. Is that how it had happened? Had Marcus known? Had he been trying to protect Chloe from an even deeper evil than his own? Had Lucifer killed him for it? 

Lucifer saw her eyes drift across the remains of her ex-fiancé. “Detective,” he began again, as though there was an explanation. 

But she was damned if she was going to take one more excuse from him, one more evasion. How _dare_ he try to smooth this over. Suddenly, she was furious with him for putting her in this position. No, she was going to get answers, and she was going to get them _now._ Her body was moving even before her mind could catch up. Without even making the conscious decision, she pulled her gun. 

Staring straight at him, Chloe saw the exact moment Lucifer realized that he was wearing his true face. His expression closed, becoming impenetrable and austere. His shoulders squared as though expecting an attack, and apart from the churning fire of his eyes, Lucifer went entirely still. 

Lucifer-Satan glared at the puny gun, still pointed at center of mass. Involuntarily, Chloe followed his gaze, her brain struggling to catch up to her body. She could see her hands holding the gun shakily in front of her, keeping him in her sights. But she didn’t remember making the decision. Frantically, she tried to recall events, to count her bullets. Were there any left? 

Chloe squared her shoulders, certain that this was it. Was it a symptom of shock that she couldn’t find oxygen anywhere in the room? 

_That bloody hurts,_ he’d said, sounding surprised. She was relieved to remember that bullets did affect him - and then instantly felt guilty for the thought. _Crap!_ She’d shot Satan. Was shooting the Devil a one-way ticket to Heaven or to Hell? 

Satan’s expression made her previous terror feel quaint. There was definitely no oxygen in the room. The light dimmed. The shadows grew.

“Well go on then,” he mocked, throwing his arms wide. _Let me make it easy for you._

With predatory menace, Satan advanced. Her soul quaked under the authority that rolled off his being. But Chloe held her ground, mesmerized by the wasteland of his flesh: the canyons of scars, rivers of flayed and seeping wounds, valleys of decay. The cloistering air smelled of sulfur and rot. 

“Do it,” he goaded, stopping only when his chest bumped the muzzle of her gun. He was too close for escape; she was too numb to shoot. 

In desperation, Chloe tried to look past the flames, to catch something – anything – familiar in his eyes. But he wouldn’t yield and she couldn’t breathe. 

It was then, when she was holding on by a string, her sanity twisting away… it was then that he smiled. The rictus of his ruined face contorted into something almost tender. His red hand raised itself high enough to tuck a stray strand of blonde behind her ear. He was careful not to touch her skin, even as he lingered, but Chloe couldn’t help but tremble. 

When he spoke again it was nearly a whisper, the language unfamiliar. “Finish it,” he said, as the strange syllables vibrated deep into her being, oddly compelling. She wanted to prostrate herself, to die, to obey. 

“FINISH IT” he ordered. 

And so she did. She depressed the trigger even as she collapsed, even as her fear surpassed the limits of what a mortal mind could bear. 

With a shot, Chloe Decker fell.


	2. Dillydally

Chloe’s head hurt. There were voices, male and female, and she wished they would stop. Neither was too distant nor too near, but both sounded strained. In the same room perhaps? Fighting, certainly. The male voice sounded like Lucifer’s, but she couldn’t get her mind to make sense of his words. 

She was laying down, pressed against something cold. Tile? With her head on…? She opened her eyes. It was the floor of the loft, her head resting on a… pillow? _Is that where all the feathers had come from?_ No, it was Lucifer’s jacket, bunched up to cushion her head, which still hurt. 

She looked across the room, blinking against the brightness. The male voice was indeed Lucifer’s. Her Lucifer: dark hair, olive skin, sumptuous lines of bespoke tailoring. A bit groggily she wondered if it had all been dream.

She didn’t recognize his dark-haired companion; a witness, perhaps? She could imagine his teasing even now, _sleeping on the job, Detective?_ She’d never live this down. 

Chloe pushed herself into a seated position. Two pairs of eyes swiveled in her direction. Lucifer, who had been emphatically animated, was suddenly stricken. 

_Oh._

So maybe not a dream, then. 

She watched as he fell once more into preternatural stillness. 

Undeterred, Lucifer’s companion sprang into action. She stepped toward Chloe with a grace that rivaled Lucifer’s own. Chloe’s hindbrain wanted to flee. 

Frantically, Chloe edged away, too uncertain of her legs to stand. But the woman merely smirked over her shoulder at Lucifer – tossing unintelligible words in her wake. Chloe wished her head would clear; whatever the woman had said, it had Lucifer looking even more baleful than before.

But when the woman smiled, her face was a sunbeam. She cleared her throat, “Be not afraid, Chloe Decker,” she said cheerfully, posture taut, small frame puffed out. “Behold, it is I, Lucifer’s favorite sister, Azrael. It pleases me to see your health so improved.”

Improved? Sister? And had Lucifer just rolled his eyes? Chloe was now certain that this was a fever dream. This woman was obviously putting her on. But at least her imagination was finally speaking English. She stopped trying crawl away.

“H-hello,” Chloe’s dream self responded. “Sister, huh?” 

Did the Devil have a sister? Or was this proof of the dream theory? She wished she knew enough of the Bible to be sure.

Dropping the formality, Azrael confirmed, “Little sister.” Then, reaching out, asked, “Want a hand?”

Thoughtlessly, Chloe closed her fingers around the proffered hand. Instantly, she felt an overwhelming sense of peace fill her being. Whatever was happening, whatever this dream meant, it would be okay. The woodenness in her legs melted away, the tension in her shoulders evaporated. She knew beyond knowing that all would be well, that all manner of things would be well. 

Lucifer looked like he wanted to vomit.

Having calmed Chloe, Azrael turned her attention back to her brother. To Chloe’s chagrin, they reverted back to gibberish, Lucifer’s terse response somehow managing to sound equally sonorous and annoyed. Were they speaking another language? Is that why Chloe couldn’t understand? The sound of it made her tremble. 

“Sorry to bounce so soon,” Azrael said, turning back to Chloe. “Cain is big news, so no time to dillydally.” Then she asked, almost as an afterthought, “Do you want Lu to stay?”

Chloe looked at her partner. He hadn’t moved, and he wasn’t meeting her eyes. She could practically feel the tension coursing through his body. 

Did she want Lucifer to stay? Chloe wasn’t sure. The overwhelming terror she’d experienced earlier was gone, chased away by Azrael’s touch. But Chloe was absolutely unsettled. Worse, she couldn’t make sense of the dream, of where reality gave way to hallucination. Were they talking about her partner staying, or the Devil? 

Since it was a dream, Chloe chose to be blunt: “Is he dangerous?”

Over Azrael’s shoulder, Lucifer’s eyes closed. But Azrael’s gaze never left Chloe’s face. “Absolutely,” she answered.

Chloe's mouth went dry, as fresh tension rose up through her inner calm. But she had always known Lucifer was dangerous. 

“I mean, is he evil?” she clarified. And behind Azrael, Lucifer blanched.

The question gave Azrael pause, which Chloe took as a bad sign. 

“Dad'll be the judge of that.” 

Then, looking Chloe over, Azrael nodded slightly in Lucifer’s direction, walked over to Marcus and disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Swinging a little wide with Azrael's character here, but I always thought she had more sides to her...


	3. Menace

Chloe waited a beat to see if she’d wake up, but nothing changed. 

She and Lucifer were still trapped in the crime scene from hell, with only Marcus’ unconscious goons and his dead body for company. It was awkward enough to be the punchline of a bad joke. Worse, she could tell Lucifer wasn’t breathing even from across the room. Not that she was breathing all that well herself. 

She felt his eyes flick to her face and drop quickly down.

“Detective,” he began, looking at his feet, “Chloe. I—“

But she could hear the sirens now. There wasn’t time. Chloe’s police training was kicking in, making her tone brusque. “Lucifer, what the—“ she started to ask – but just as quickly swallowed her words in a panic. This was _Satan_ she was addressing. Her training was woefully inadequate for the situation, he gut instincts snarled in knots. She cursed herself for interrupting and pressed herself backward, farther into the wall. _Damn it, Chloe, don’t upset him._ But Lucifer only stood, mutely observing her distress, a line of tension growing across his shoulders. The silence was going to kill her. 

Chloe caved. “Did I hit you?” she asked, meekly. 

He flinched, but didn’t raise his eyes. 

“The fault is mine.”

 _So that’s a yes, then._

Chloe didn’t know how to feel about that. Woozy: mostly she felt woozy.

_It is all true._

She tried to keep her head clear. He wasn’t attacking; she didn’t seem to be in immediate danger. She forced herself to look him over, noting a bloody gash across his arm and holes in his otherwise impeccable dress shirt. He looked more or less intact. Had he been hit but not hurt? She pushed past her qualms, needing to know. 

Still, the words didn’t come out easily. “Where? Are you okay?”

“Are you?”

She allowed an eye roll, stress adding to her exasperation. “We have to explain this, somehow.”

“I have to explain it, you mean.”

“We are _partners,_ Lucifer.”

“Are we?”

* * *

Chloe watched Lucifer move through the aftermath, his charm subdued, but present. She saw him joke with the medic who bandaged his arm, flirt as he gave his statement to the attending uni, and noticed when he stood at loose ends, all business complete. She continued watching as he put his hands in his pockets, paused for a moment, and walked out the door.

Never once had she taken her eyes off him. Not once had he looked in her direction.

* * *

The station was a blur, Chloe’s front porch a jangle. Just getting the right key in the lock took an eternity. Her hands shook and her nerves were all over the place. The bird calls from the courtyard took on an ominous tone.

Dan had, of course, offered to take her home. But the last thing Chloe wanted was another person around – her mind was already too crowded. Still, perhaps she should have let Dan see her to the door. _Just coming down from shock,_ she thought to herself, _totally normal._

When Chloe did get the door open, she nearly sprinted inside, slamming it shut and sliding down to the floor. It had taken everything she had to get this far: she was done. 

So Detective Chloe Decker, former – _current?_ – partner of the literal Devil sat. She sat for a long, long while. She became one with the floor. Still, she sat. She tried to push the memories aside: not to wonder, not to panic, just to be. 

Gradually Chloe became aware of familiar sounds: Trixie’s ridiculous Minnie Mouse clock ticking in the bedroom, the flow of traffic out on the street, the hum of their refrigerator. These were the comforting sounds of home, and they should have been calming. Instead each sound seemed imbued with menace.

Chloe tried taking a shower, but she was too aware of everything she couldn’t hear over the sound of the water. None of her locks had ever stopped Lucifer before. Would she even know if he broke into her house again? She didn’t want to be naked and unarmed when she found out.

She ended up at a cheap motel in Koreatown – a Bible, a bottle of red wine, and her gun for company. 

She didn’t remember falling asleep.


	4. Reprieve

The sweet smell of sweat and stale alcohol mixed with cool ocean air, a balm of reprieve. It was midday, the sky a perfect sunny blue. An odd hour in Hollywood: noon saw hung-over clubbers groping their way into the sunlight under dark glasses. The revelers emerged to stand beside khaki-clad working stiffs who nibbled sandwiches as yoga fanatics, fitness gurus, and socialites whizzed by with self-righteous importance. Together, the denizens of West Hollywood cursed the hour, crawled into Ubers, and yearned, again, for reprieve. 

Detective Chloe Decker was in no mood for it. Nor was she interested in being frightened. Not that it mattered: the hairs on the back of her neck had been standing on end for days. Literally everything made her jump; Turns out, realizing that you lived with a demon and worked with the Devil did terrible things to one’s equanimity. 

Chloe let out a frustrated huff and willed herself to stand with more confidence. Striding forward quickly, her trained ears caught the echo of someone mirroring her newly accelerated pace. _I’m imagining it_ she told herself. _There’s nothing there._

But the sickening sense of foreboding wouldn’t budge. 

It had been 72 hours of hell. Three days of a fear so intense, it was overwhelming. After the failed shower, Chloe had stripped her cell phone to deactivate the GPS then driven across town nearly at random, holing up in a stogy motel. She dutifully checked out of her room each morning, after allowing herself a just single call to Trixie via landline. All purchases were made from her quickly depleting cash reserves. She knew she was being paranoid, but she couldn’t make herself stop. Aside from avoiding street cameras – to which she sincerely hoped Lucifer didn’t yet have access – Chloe had done everything she could think of to stay off the grid. 

It was also true that Chloe had also been in and out of cyber cafes, libraries and, yes, churches. She was trying desperately to wrap her head around this new reality. Briefly, Chloe considered checking into the mental ward, hoping that Lucifer’s devil face was all a delusion. Regardless, things weren’t getting better. The reflection that tailed her down the stale, sticky streets of WeHo was haggard and tired.

It was time to face her fears. 

Ducking into a corner bodega, Chloe slipped in through one entrance and out the other, doubling back to scan the area for potential stalkers. Noting possible suspects, she changed directions and marched forward at a steady clip. 

Chloe then doubled back, stopped to adjust her shoes, and ordered from a food truck – all just to ensure she wasn’t being “followed” by mere coincidence. Finally, rounding the corner of a large high-rise, Chloe found the opportunity she’d been looking for: an alcove deep enough to shelter her from view. 

Moving quickly, the detective pressed herself into the lee of the building and waited for someone from the bodega to round the corner. The building’s cement was soothing and cool at her back. When her stalker inevitably showed, Chloe found herself facing an unassuming man with a lean frame, dressed simply in jeans and a polo shirt. But there was no question: she’d seen him earlier. Trusting her instincts. Chloe reached out quickly, slamming her pursuer into the wall, and pointing her gun at his back. 

“Why are you following me?”

Mr. Nondescript was nonplussed, putting up no resistance. “Because He asked.”

“He who?”

“Lord Lucifer.”

“Lord—?“ but she couldn’t even finish the thought. Her brain just went to the blue screen of death. She was so furious. _Lord._ Of course he’d assign her a stalker. It was just such a Lucifer thing to do. She cuffed the man quickly. 

“Care to elaborate?” she asked, an afterthought. But Lucifer’s lackey wouldn’t even give her his name. 

This was ending, _now._

* * *

Lux held up better than most, but it still had the particularly washed-out look of nightclubs in the light of day. 

_At least I was already in the neighborhood_ Chloe thought grimly. 

The closer they got, the harder it was for Chloe to keep unwanted thoughts at bay. Wasn’t the Devil supposedly able to track down any living soul, no matter where it went? Was this just a game to him? A not-so-subtle way of rubbing it in her face? _Come out, come out, wherever you are._

What the hell did he want with her? 

Shoving her stalker through the door, Chloe contemplated the idea that Lucifer had sent his lackey as bait, merely to lure her back to his lair. (Because it was clear, now, that Lux was a lair.) But, then again, Lucifer obviously knew where Chloe was if he was having her followed. So _olly, olly, oxen free,_ she was done hiding. 

Yanking her stalker’s arm, Chloe dragged him across the dance floor toward the elevator. She was absolutely not thinking about the reason she’d been avoiding Lux in the first place. _It’s a bad day when having a stalker is just icing on the cake._

Suddenly her hands were empty: Mr. Nondescript wrested himself from her grasp and flung himself to the floor. The sheer speed and strength of his movement terrified Chloe. _Definitely not human._ She jumped away, creeped out by the idea that she’d just unknowingly hauled something so _other_ across town, that she’d touched the demonic. 

_Demon stalker, great._ Her danger instincts flared. 

The non-human knelt – impervious to his cuffed wrists – and pressed his forehead to the floor. It was a gesture of complete obsequence, nearly worship. Chloe’s throat went dry. Even before her eyes adjusted to the light, she knew what was making the creature beside her tremble. 

Lucifer met them both head on with an impassive glare. He was lounging across the center of a VIP booth, insouciant, arms spread wide. Light caught the red bottom of his Louboutins and Chloe was momentarily distracted by how very on-brand they were, how regal he looked. Like a king. Like Satan. As though the banquette was made of solid gold. 

Feeling very small, Chloe was once again confronted with the extreme scale of his authority, of his immortality and age. Without her permission, her heart took off like a rocket and she felt the discomfort of sweat oozing from her pores. 

_It’s all true._

Her brain sputtered, reliving the Reveal as unbidden memories of red flesh and charred skin brought fresh dread. Averting her gaze, she tried for a steadying breath. 

The silence stretched. 

Lucifer raised his impeccable eyebrows. _Well?_

He looked at her as though she was a stranger. As though it wasn’t perfectly obvious she’d found his lackey stalking her! As though, having proved himself as the Devil, he’d somehow acquired the moral upper hand. His indifference pricked, and Chloe’s anger was back in an instant. 

“You are unbelievable,” she spat. 

His eyes flashed. Nothing like the flames she’d seen before, but with a feral glint that set her teeth on edge. “And here I thought we’d made rather a lot of progress in that regard.” 

The smug superiority of his tone did nothing to lessen her rage. “I _trusted_ you.” 

His face was glacial, offended at the insinuation of wrongdoing. 

Chloe paled, realizing yet again with whom – or rather what – she was speaking. Not that it stopped her from wanting to strangle him. 

She wondered again if that was his real body. (If he was possessing someone, would strangling him even work?) 

Re-crossing his legs, Lucifer brought his hands forward, and wrapped long fingers around his knee, unblinking. 

The detective did her level best to face the Devil, studiously avoiding his eyes. She was still too afraid of what she would see. 

“Is it true?” She gestured to the creature at her feet, “Did you ask—ask him to follow me?” She hated how uncertain she sounded. Chloe darn-well knew Lucifer had put this cretin up to it. 

“Of course not, darling.” Lucifer drawled. “I _ordered_ him. The Devil does not ask.” 

The demon in question quivered, pressing himself further into the floor. 

Chloe suddenly wondered whether her stalker had earned some kind of punishment for being found out. Perhaps she should have processed him at the precinct instead. 

"Why would you—?” 

His jaw ticked; the pieces started falling into place. “Lucifer,” Chloe seethed, “I do not want, nor need, your protection.” _You’re what frightens me._

Instead of responding, Lucifer barked out what Chloe could only assume was an order, the abrupt syllables rough and guttural. The demon gratefully peeled himself off the floor and scurried from the room. 

Chloe was alone with the Devil. 

He stood, slowly, dropping the arrogant insouciance and seeming to truly acknowledge her for the first time. His gaze was heavy as he began to close the distance between them, and Chloe couldn’t help but take a feeble step backward. 

Registering her reaction, Lucifer gathered himself without advancing further and asked, almost softly “What brings you here, Detective?” 

_What indeed._ Chloe studied the toes of her incredibly practical shoes while collecting her thoughts. Looking up, but still not quite meeting his eye, she shrugged, “I want my life back.” 

He smiled at that, though it rang false, and pushed his tongue into his cheek licentiously. “Why, Detective, I knew you’d come around. See? A little fun never hurt anybody.” 

Chloe paled at the insinuation. Had he really just accused her of having no life? Propositioned her? Suggested _sex with the Devil?_

In the face of obvious revulsion, Lucifer deflated. When he continued, his tone was harsh and defensive. “Well, you’re barking up the wrong celestial tree then, aren’t you?” He crossed his arms, closing himself off. “I am responsible for many things, Detective, but, thank Dad, lives - the living - have never been one of them.” 

It was a deflection, pure and simple. Chloe didn’t know why she’d expected anything else. Still, she had no intention of being put off so easily. 

“I can handle the Sinnerman’s network. I don’t need your—your minions following me around.” 

He looked aside. “That isn’t what worries me.” 

“Lucifer—“ 

But he was already turning away. “ _Request_ denied.” 

He continued as though to leave the room, making it clear that she had been dismissed. 

“Lucifer—“ 

He took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders before turning back. “No.” 

She was confused. “No?” 

“Whatever you think of me, Detective, you are wrong.” He exhaled in a long sigh. “If you want me to stay away, fine: I will abide by your wishes. But your safety I refuse to risk.” 

“What the hell are you talking about?” Chloe said, focusing on the sensation of her feet meeting the floor, on her breath hitting her diaphragm. Grounding. _Was she in danger?_

He chuffed, turning to face her. “Hell indeed.” 

His expression was dark. “Cain is dead at my hand. Half of heaven is watching to see what new punishment Dad has in store for me. And the other half of the Host – not to mention all my subjects – is striving to divine the Great Adversary's motive, to capitalize on the potential weakness. Either way, it puts you in the crosshairs of half the heavens and all of hell.” 

She was still trying to regain her breath, when Lucifer smiled wickedly. “Frankly, with an audience of that magnitude, a little demon or two shouldn’t make much of a difference.“ 


	5. Rabbit Hole

Chloe blinked back into the noon sun, flummoxed. 

After announcing that the entire universe was out to get them, Lucifer had merely spun on his well-shod heels and walked away. As though it was just another Tuesday. _Another day ending in –y, Darling._

Her stomach clenched. Something about the entire interaction was off (or as “off” as a should-be-impossible, this-isn’t-really-happening kind of experience could be). _He just left me there._ She’d been flustered and nauseous and not even sure what to think. The sudden shift in their dynamic was every bit as disorienting as learning that he was the Devil: emotional whiplash.

Even now Chloe was flustered and nauseous and still not sure what to think.

 _But also free and unharmed._

Her gut twinged at the thought. But walking out of Lux on her own volition did feel like a miracle. 

She’d survived.

(Or had he let her go?) 

She wondered, idly, if her demon-stalker had been so lucky. 

Still conscious of her six, Chloe leaned against the nightclub and looked around: If Lucifer had meant “demon or two” literally then it stood to reason she was already being observed. 

Afternoon traffic was light, the sidewalks full of self-absorbed pedestrians tripping over curbs as they walked face-deep in smartphones. The subtle tang of _carnitas_ wafted up from a street vendor down the block – just another Tuesday, indeed. 

She looked back at Lux, trying to get her bearings. _“I know where you live – where Satan has his throne.”_ The words from Revelation popped into her head as she tried to square the idea of Lux as a home with the vision of the Devil enthroned. Is this how it had always been? Lucifer hiding in plain sight, lording over city after city, the mundane juxtaposed eternally against the supernatural? She knew it wasn’t his first “vacation” after all. 

That was a rabbit hole with no end. 

Chloe shifted her thoughts to the warmth of the sun, to the tangible, familiar reality of everyday life. She pushed off the wall and searched for a taxi. It might be old-school, but the sudden relief of having confronted Lucifer brought a wave of exhaustion. She was in no condition to hoof it back. Not to mention the fact that her phone was still in pieces at the motel. 

Giving the driver the address, Chloe melted into the cracked pleather. 

At the motel it took only moments to gather her things. But the snap of her phone fitting back together triggered fresh dread. The infernal thing was merciless, gleefully dinging the arrival of each backlogged text and voicemail. 

A pit formed in Chloe’s stomach; she was too afraid to check whether her partner’s name would be among the messages. She tried not to think about what he might have said.

He was Satan.

What was there to say?

* * *

Linda dropped an armful of Maze’s best knives to the floor in a clatter, whirling with a gasp to face Chloe.

“Linda?” 

Chloe, already at her lifetime limit for steadying breaths, tried to overcome the sudden surge of adrenaline as she lowered her gun. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Sorry, I’m sorry.” Linda took a second to regain her composure, before stooping down to collect the fallen knives. Chloe knelt beside her, gathering them up with a confused frown.

“I did try calling – for days, in fact. And I texted to tell you I was on my way over. Is your phone not working? I’ve been worried.”

“I—“ But Chloe didn’t even know where to start. “Forget me. Where’s Maze? What are you doing with her knives?”

Linda straightened, a crinkle of compassion shading her features as she settled into ‘therapist mode.’ “Chloe, Maze was injured. She’s been holed up at my office recovering for the last three days. And she’s paranoid, too. Keeps telling me she can’t rest until she had all these on hand. Not that I want an arsenal in my office, but it really can’t go on like this. She needs rest.”

 _So much for getting my life back_. “Maze got hurt Saturday?”

“Yes, why? What is going on?”

“What else did she ask you to bring? I’ll help you pack.”

* * *

Safely ensconced in the passenger seat of Linda’s sedan, Chloe took a deep breath and pulled out her phone. A quick glance informed her that, in addition to the messages Linda had mentioned, there were plenty from Dan and Ella, a few courtesy updates from the team assigned to Marcus’ case, some calls from her mother (of course), and even a few reporters trying to score an interview.

But there was nothing from Lucifer.

It should have been a relief, but his silence only served to worry Chloe further. “Linda, have you heard from Lucifer lately?”

Linda made a side-eye her direction. “No? Not since our last session.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Chloe, what’s going on?” A pause: “You can talk to me, you know.”

“No, I know. It’s just—“ She wasn’t sure how to explain, where to begin. 

Chloe gazed out the window, trying to put words to the last few days. “Lucifer accidentally revealed some pretty major stuff about his life and it is weirding me out. So I’m avoiding him, or at least I was, until I discovered the stalker he’d assigned me—“ 

“The WHAT?” Linda asked, finally taking her eyes off the road. 

“An honest-to-God stalker.” Chloe said, grimacing at her own phrasing. “Which, it was just so _not okay,_ you know? And I was so furious and so done being scared… I went to Lux to confront him and he was completely ‘off’ when I got there. Everything was off. Everything is wrong and I don’t know what to do.”

Linda was quiet when Chloe finished.

“Sorry.” Chloe said, reading into the silence. “I didn’t mean to unload on you. I mean—“

“No, no. It’s fine. Well, obviously not fine, but…” Linda risked another glance at Chloe, despite the mess that was the Wilshire Boulevard exit. “What do you mean by ‘pretty major stuff’? What did he show you?”

Chloe studied her hands. “Uh, well it wasn’t really anything new so much as, as that I actually believed him, I guess.” 

She huffed, bitterly. Wasn’t that just the worst of it? He’d told her from the beginning. And how had she responded? With irreverence, with naïve platitudes. By having him babysit her daughter. 

_No more metaphors._

She’d barreled through their partnership with the audacious certainty that her view of the world was the right one, that her partner wasn't the most terrifying being in the universe.

 _Not to me._

As though Chloe Decker was an expert on anything.

 _Dear Gah—Something,_ she’d barged into his house and accused him of deceit, of being untrustworthy, just hours ago. Lucifer, whose word was a sacred bond. 

_Literally sacred. Shit._

“Were they white?” Linda asked.

“What?” Chloe pried herself away from self-recrimations and tried to focus.

“Was it red?”

Chloe’s eyes snapped to Linda, heart rate already beginning to climb, thoughts no longer fuzzy. “Red? Why would you say that?”

Instead of answering, Linda hit the command button on her steering wheel. “Text Lucifer Morningstar: ‘With Chloe. Request permission to break doctor-patient confidentiality. Limited scope.'”

The answering chime was almost immediate. 

Linda pulled the car to the shoulder and turned in her seat, facing Chloe completely. 

“Chloe, I know. I’ve seen it too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know: the only good chapter is a chapter with Lucifer in it. But they're avoiding each other, it couldn't be helped!


	6. Vigil

In the foyer, Chloe’s panic returned. 

A quiet, stealthy thing, it crept up with paralysis and the taste of bile. Her feet ground to a halt a few steps from Doctor Linda’s door. 

Recognizing her struggle, Linda turned back, giving Chloe’s hand a quick squeeze. 

“You don’t have to do this, you know.”

Chloe wanted to say, “I know,” or perhaps “yes, I do” – something brave (or anything, really). Instead, all she could do was nod, throat too dry to form a syllable.

Linda let go of her hand and moved inside. Chloe could hear the clatter of knives as Linda set the bundle down on the desk, then Linda’s soft footsteps, and eventually something like furniture being dragged across the rug. Aside from these unassuming noises, all was calm and quiet. But still, Chloe couldn’t move.

There was no hint of supernatural realities in the lobby of Linda’s office suite, no looming hellion radiating fury. Rather, Chloe found herself surrounded by surreal normalcy: blasé art reproductions, silk flowers, florescent light. 

_A florescent light and existential crisis sundae. With a demon on top._

A demon that had been her friend. _Was still her friend?_

“She’s asleep, if that helps.” Linda said, peeking her head around the doorway.

Chloe startled as if broken from a trance and moved herself forward. As she rounded the door, she saw evidence of Linda’s unwavering thoughtfulness: a chair, placed near the exit and about as far from Maze as possible. Not that it mattered, Chloe thought, _three feet or three miles, there’s still a demon on Linda’s couch._

A substantial tang of blood hung heavy in the air, layered with antiseptic and sweat. Chloe worked up the nerve to look at Maze. What Chloe’s eyes found instead was a Maze-shaped pulp: the demon was wrecked – not in a Lucifer-Satan, flayed-alive way – but beaten, bruised and bloodied. Maze’s arms, where they were visible outside the blanket, were heavily bandaged with enormous, yellowing bruises snaking out from under the gauze. 

“Linda! She needs a hospital!”

But Linda just chuckled. “You’d think. But demons are tough, and Maze is opposed on principal... It's not like they’d know how to treat her, anyway.”

Chloe plunked down in the chair acknowledging Linda’s point. _Not human. Right._

Did she want Maze cured? Should she care? 

_“You cannot have a part in both the Lord’s table and the table of demons.”_ Yet another vitriolic scripture jumped into her head. (Chloe was beginning to regret all the research.) Did being here for Maze mean choosing sides in the battle of Heaven versus Hell? Was she here for Maze? 

Chloe should have asked Linda about life after death. Surely Lucifer had explained it?

“Am I going to hell for this?” 

Linda looked baffled for a moment, then settled back into therapist mode. "Do you feel guilty about it?" 

"Guilty?"

Linda nodded. “You only go to Hell if you feel guilty.”

“Guilty for associating with—?“ Chloe waved her hand in Maze’s direction.

“Or whatever.”

“Wait, what?” 

“Well, according to both Lucifer and Amenadiel, we each choose our own fate.” Linda said. 

Chloe heard Linda's care in citing both Celestials as sources, her thoughtfulness in not asking Chloe to choose sides in a cosmic conflict she'd only just accepted as real. “Only those souls weighed down by guilt end up in hell. Turns out neither Lucifer nor Maze have any say at all in where we go.“ 

Linda paused, musing, before she continued. “I’m under the impression that God _could_ intervene if he wished, but otherwise…”

“Are you saying it’s my choice?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“Huh.”

Chloe’s brain fritzed yet again. Stutteringly she processed. What she did in this moment had literally no bearing on the fate of her soul. She was truly free to do whatever she wanted: to hang out with a demon, to run away, to do what was right in her own eyes (or even what was wrong, for that matter). 

But what was right? Chloe was running on empty, her brain mush. Maze hadn’t asked her to come. Was she intruding? Being masochistic? 

For a moment, Chloe entertained a seemingly endless litany of excuses to walk away. But if she didn’t take the plunge into supernatural reality now, she’d never find the will, she'd never get past this. And she wasn't the kind of person to live with her head buried in the sand. 

Taking a deep breath, Chloe dragged her chair over and joined the Devil’s therapist in a vigil for a sleeping demon.

* * *

  
It was a long vigil.

As Maze slept, Chloe and Linda chatted awkwardly, the stilted rhythm of a conversation on the verge of immanent interruption. And they were interrupted, often, by a guttural bark akin to Lucifer’s terse instructions at Lux: the language of Hell. The syllables erupted from Maze in fits and starts, chaotic and intense. Chloe couldn’t imagine how a sound so rough could escape without Maze’s conscious awareness, it sounded too painful.

“Linda, how did you ever get used to this?” Chloe moaned.

“Oh—“ Linda began, only to be interrupted—yet again—by Maze’s voice.

“Don’t worry, Decker,” the demon rasped, stirring. “It’s only kinky the first time.” 

Chloe nearly fell off her chair. 

Maze looked to Linda, perplexed. “What? It’s not like Lucifer is the only sadist in town!” 

Linda ignored both of them, focusing on her patient. “Hey there, Maze. How are you doing?” 

“Fine,” Maze huffed, disgusted at the tenderness. She tried to sit up to prove her point, but stopped with a hiss of pain. 

“I—I wouldn’t do that,” Chloe admonished, folding herself back onto the chair. Then she flinched, thinking _maybe I would._ What did Chloe Decker know about demonic pain tolerance? Who was she to give advice to an immortal creature?

“Pfft. Do what, Granny Panties? Savor the pain?”

Pain: it was common ground for Maze and Lucifer. But up until this week, Chloe hadn’t taken either of them seriously about it, instead chalking it all up to Lucifer’s odd delusion or some shared kink between the two of them. Now, she wondered exactly how old Mazikeen was; how long she and Lucifer had spent in each other’s orbit. What had lead to their unflappable aversion to vulnerability?

The atmosphere in the office felt strained; Chloe realized that they must have been waiting on her answer. Maze was looking askance at Linda, who just lifted an eyebrow. 

_How long have I been lost in thought?_ Chloe tried to gather herself, to remember where the conversation had trailed off.

Mazikeen stared Chloe straight in the eyes, holding the gaze longer than was comfortable, before letting a vicious grin cover her face. “He told you!” 

“No, Chloe said, willing herself not to look away, “he showed me.”

“Well bully for you.” Maze answered, unimpressed by the semantics. “So you’re here to what, tell me off?”

“What? No. I—“ Chloe sighed. Affront coiled like a spring in her belly, ready to lash out at Maze for the accusation. But Maze really wasn’t far off. Without Linda’s interference, Chloe would have been relieved to have Maze out of her life. _Would I even have worried at her absence?_ A pang of guilt hit Chloe: they were supposed to be tribe. She tried not to panic at the implications of her own guilt. _Put a lid on it, Decker._

“I don’t know. I don’t know why I’m here, except that you’re hurt and I’m scared and Linda was at our place collecting knives, and nothing makes sense anymore.”

“Ugh.” Said Maze, trying again to sit up. “I did not sign up to be His emotional cleanup bitch.”

Chloe found Maze’s familiar frustration and even her recent incapacitation oddly comforting: tangible evidence that Maze as still Maze and that Chloe was safe, at least for now. If the demon couldn't sit up, she couldn't attack. But just as quick, thinking that way about _Maze,_ who was supposed to be her friend, added to Chloe’s ever-increasing sense of guilt. _Murphey’s Law._ The minute you want to avoid a feeling, you discover it everywhere. 

The room had gone quiet again. _Did I miss something?_

Chloe swallowed, ignoring the dryness of her throat. “Maze, I’m not sure I follow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally planned a much longer chapter, but Maze is a difficult character for me to write. So rather than make everyone wait, here's the calm before the storm...


	7. Birthright

The demon across from Chloe rolled her eyes.

“Seriously, Decker? I’m not up for all the feels and shit. You’re scared. Of Lucifer. Easy money, he’s a useless, wallowing git right now. So, no thank you, someone else can have cleanup duty this time.”

“Um…” Chloe didn’t even know what to say. “I’m not asking you to… do that.” 

Maze’s right eyebrow edged up.

“Seriously,” Chloe said, “I have no idea what is going on with him, but he certainly isn’t ‘wallowing.’” 

Maze smirked. “Worse, huh? Well, at least he stuck around. I half thought he’d bail and maroon me here in punishment. You know, for Cain’s crap.”

Chloe paled at the mention: _Cain’s crap. The world's first murder._

“How was Lucifer doing?” Linda asked politely. At that precise moment, Chloe blurted “He had your knife!”

“Well, duh.” Maze was unfazed. “How did you think I got all these bruises?”

“Oh.” Chloe said, awkwardly looking for a place to rest her eyes. She hadn’t really spent much time wondering how Maze had gotten injured. 

Linda repeated her question, coming to the rescue. “Chloe, how was Lucifer when you saw him last?”

Chloe turned and registered the concern in Linda’s eyes. _Concern I should share._ Chloe thought. _He’s my partner._ But she couldn’t make herself feel it. She wasn’t even sure she knew Lucifer anymore. 

Chloe sighed. “Uh, lording over everything? Deigning to speak with me? I dunno. I’m already terrified, it doesn’t make sense that he’d be trying to scare me – but I have never seen this side of him. I mean, I guess it’s better than suicidal, or malevolent, or whatever he was before… but even the demon-stalker he sent after me was terrified.”

At the mention of Chloe’s demon-stalker, Maze’s body went from faux-relaxed nonchalance into tense alertness. Like Lucifer, she stilled, becoming stone-like. Chills rolled down Chloe’s back as Maze’s otherness surged to the forefront of her brain. Maze ignored the shiver. 

“Decker, what do you mean? What demon?”

“Uh, well, no human could move that fast, so I assume he was a demon? I wasn’t really thinking straight. I mean, I accused Lucifer of having the guy follow me, which was dumb. But his only point of clarification was that he’d ordered him to do it.” Chloe paused before adding, “It wasn’t a good conversation.”

“What did he look like?”

“Stalker-guy?” 

Maze nodded. 

“Uh, nothing special: 5’10, Caucasian, light build, mousey hair.”

Maze was leaning forward now. “Decker, this is important.” Her eyes burned into Chloe’s. “Did he have a mole on the left side of his face, near his nose?”

“A mole?” Chloe thought back. “Well, yeah, he kinda did, Maze, but how—“

For the briefest moment, Chloe saw unbridled ecstasy lift Maze’s features into something exquisite, something that was quickly shuttered up with a look of horror. In the next second, despite what were obvious and extensive injuries, the demon was off the couch and at the door. 

“Linda, Decker, come on. We have got to go. Now!” Maze’s tone brokered no resistance. 

Not that Chloe had it in her, anyway.

* * *

  
Chloe was white-knuckling it in the backseat of her own sedan. Maze drove like a bat out of hell and Chloe couldn’t figure out where they were going. “Maze--” Chloe started, trying not to notice how close they’d come to hitting a pedestrian as they barreled the wrong way down a narrow alley, “do you have a desire mojo thing? Does it work on me?”

Maze looked at her blankly.

“You know, the thing Lucifer does to get the suspect talking?” _Should I be saying His name aloud? Does this work like Harry Potter?_

The demon just guffawed. “Decker, I’m a bazillion years old. I know how to get shit done. I don’t need any special angel juice.”

From the passenger seat a slightly calmer Linda spoke up. “Speaking of that, Maze, what exactly are we getting done here?”

Pushing down on the gas pedal, Maze replied, “Enlisting.”

* * *

  
Chloe must have zoned out because when she realized where they’d stopped, her entire body balked: Lux. _No, no, no, no, no. Nope. Not this again._

“Maze, I’m really not comfortable--” but Chloe was already being yanked out of the car. 

“Don’t be a pussy, Decker. This is important.” 

The demon peered through the open car door to Linda, who hadn’t yet had a chance to unbuckle. “Linda, if we’re not back in 15 minutes, drive Chloe’s car back to her place. I’ll spot your Uber and catch up with you later.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come?” Linda asked, making as though to get out of the car.

Maze just rolled her eyes. “We’ll be fine - a little confrontation never hurt anybody.”

 _Confrontation?_ Chloe started backing away. “I really don’t want to get in the middle of things…” 

Linda tried to step in. “Maze, Chloe is clearly uncomfortable and neither of us really understand what’s so urgent. Could you explain things a little, please? I’m sure we can clear things up about the stalker later….”

But Maze just dragged Chloe along, leaving Linda to let her thought trail off.

“Seriously, Decker, you were just here and it went fine.”

“I did _not_ say it went fine.”

The closing of the elevators doors sent Chloe into a fit of claustrophobia. _Trapped alone in an elevator with a demon. Going to see the Devil._ Chloe did not want to be doing this right now. Her resolve hardened. She was only trapped if she allowed herself to be pushed around.

“Maze, I’m not going. I’m sorry, I’m just not ready to face all of this right n--”

That was all it took. Maze switched from Annoyed Friend to Ninja Demon, binding Chloe’s arms in a vice and pressing a knife to her neck. Chloe was almost too startled to be scared.

“Decker,” Maze hissed into her ear, “this isn’t optional. Now shut up and follow my lead.”

 _Follow your lead?_ The mood Chloe was in, she wanted to scratch the demon’s eyes out. She did not like being restrained. It had been a mistake to think she could trust a demon. Or the Devil. They'd even duped Linda!

Stepping off the elevator, Maze was challenged almost immediately. “Malfas, Valax,” Maze greeted the bouncers curtly, “Let us pass.” Chloe’s eyes widened, registering _not bouncers, demons._

The taller of the two shifted its weight. “You aren’t on the list, Mazikeen. Orders are orders.”

“Orders are about to be my orders. You know how this goes. You can let me through, or face the fullness of my ire once I regain Our Lord’s favor.” 

Both demons blanched. 

“That’s what I thought,” Maze said, smirking. She sauntered past, dragging Chloe along with her, apparently oblivious to the spears prodding them from behind.. 

The scene repeated each time they moved further into Lux, until it seemed that they had an entire phalanx of demons as their escort.

_So much for rescue._

Chloe, who had been trying to pry herself free the entire time, stopped. It was becoming obvious that she’d be in more danger if she escaped Maze’s clutches. 

This really wasn’t turning out to be a good day.

As they rounded the dance floor, Chloe saw him. This time, the Lord of Hell was surrounded by the hum of people - _demons_ \- as they scurried around on important-looking business. The pomp of ceremony and alacrity of orders hung palpably in the room. 

_He must have known I was coming and cleared the room last time._ Chloe realized. _But why?_

Lucifer looked up as they entered, eyes blazing red when he saw them -- or perhaps when he saw the knife pressed to Chloe's neck. The crowd stilled. His gaze wasn’t as terrifying as it had been before, but Chloe couldn’t look away. It disturbed her how right it seemed, to see those eyes in the face of her partner. And yet how wrong. As though she was finally seeing into his soul -- a soul that burned with hellfire.

Surely it hurt?

The room grew quiet. Several of their escorting demons froze on the spot, terrified of their Lord’s displeasure. Chloe wondered if she was imagining the growing smell of sulfur in the air. She trembled and tried scrambling backwards. 

Maze held her pace, forcing Chloe to do the same. Together they marched under Lucifer’s furious gaze and the astounded eyes of all assembled. Lucifer made no effort to slow Maze’s approach. In fact, he made no effort at all. Instead, he sat in complete stillness, his glower rigid. 

As they reached the makeshift throne, the few demons who had followed Maze thus far, knelt down, bowing with their foreheads to the floor, with the same reverence Chloe’s stalker had exhibited earlier that day. _Worship,_ Chloe realized with a shudder. Maze merely squared her shoulders, looking Lucifer in the eye. 

“Forgive me.” she demanded. 

The request caught Chloe off guard. But Lucifer didn’t budge; He didn’t alter his expression and he didn’t speak. He merely held Maze’s eye, unblinking. Chloe could feel his wrath from where she stood. Maze shifted her weight, bringing the knife closer to Chloe’s neck. 

Satan’s jaw ticked. 

“I am not merciful, Mazikeen.”

Maze huffed. “What you are is at war. This is the battle of the millennia! If I have to wait for you to forgive me the usual way, it’ll take decades and I’ll miss all the glory. You’ll miss having your best lieutenant by your side. Would you risk a human life rather than relinquish that grudge? My true place is here, with--”

But she never got to finish.

A wave of peace had filled the space causing each of the demons to hiss in discomfort. For his part, Lucifer merely looked profoundly annoyed. 

A disdainful voice from the back of the room boomed, “Not even three days, and already dissent among the ranks? Your leadership is inspiring as ever, Samael.” 

Chloe tried to turn to see who spoke, but Maze didn’t yield. Instead Chloe was forced to watch fury burn in Lucifer’s eyes. Those otherworldly flames flared and churned, their malevolence clamoring for release and destruction, their presence a gravitational force. 

_Impossible,_ thought Chloe. 

But the pull was magnetic, drawing Chloe toward him like the siren call of flame to moth; It took everything she had not to quail under the intensity of those eyes. The fraction of her mind that still functioned was grateful for Maze's iron grip, holding her back from the sworl of loathing, pain, and fury that pulled at her like a black hole. Chloe quaked, feeling the depth of a rage that, even when directed elsewhere, still threatened to swallow her whole. She would be the collateral damage, but it would still shatter her soul, strip her atoms into shrapnel and unmake her with nothing but the sheer force of fury. _Is this what perps felt, when looking into his eyes?_ Chloe could feel herself yielding to the catharsis of surrender and oblivion.

Seconds later he had schooled his expression into nonchalance. His eyes dimmed to their usual brown. 

Maze released Chloe’s arms, but covered Chloe’s mouth in an apparent attempt to keep her from calling out. The gesture felt almost protective. Whoever had spoken, it was clear that both Lucifer and Maze perceived him as a serious threat -- and what was left of Chloe's pragmatic mind had enough sense not to struggle. After all, if Maze and Lucifer were willing to unite against this new foe, it wasn't good.

Chloe's consciousness struggled back from the brink. The booming voice hadn’t been speaking in English - Chloe's only language - but yet she still understood. Her detective's mind started turning the matter over, slowly. It was an uncanny comprehension and it jangled at her nerves. Chloe felt complicit without knowing why. Whoever - or whatever - this was, they were as Other as Maze and Lucifer, perhaps more so. Chloe's heart pounded in animal terror. 

Lucifer waved dismissively, grunting at the surrounding demons, who shoved Maze and Chloe off to the side. The Lord of Hell didn’t even spare them so much as a glance, merely draping himself across the booth and fixing his attention on the new arrivals. He reminded Chloe of a cat stretching after a good nap, all malevolence tucked away. 

From her position against the wall, Chloe could see the speaker and his companions approach. _“I’ve lost my mind,”_ Chloe thought. _“This is finally it.”_

Crossing the room was an exact duplicate of Lucifer Morningstar. 

The man's attire was more utilitarian, his stride a bit less languorous, but from where Chloe stood, there was no mistaking the resemblance. Lucifer’s twin was flanked by two other men, all of whom walked with preternatural grace. They crossed the room as though the dominion was their birthright.

They stopped where Chloe had been just seconds before and Lucifer’s double said something to his companion using the same lilting language Lucifer had used in the loft. Chloe felt the kind of exhilaration and terror that had nothing to do with fear. She didn't know whether to be twice as frightened, or to expect rescue. She knew only that she was in the presence of Power, of intention made manifest. When he’d finished, his companion turned to Lucifer.

There was a pause as they locked gazes, each hiding their thoughts behind a mask of polite indifference. The second being's aloofness was marred only by the crinkling lines of his eyes, eyes that searched, and queried, and seemed to express nearly palpable relief at being in Lucifer's presence. For a moment, Chloe almost thought she saw Lucifer's eyes betray a similar emotion. But then the Celestial being spoke: 

“Saint Michael, Prince of the Heavenly Host, Exulted among the Angels, Power of the Demiurge, Sword of God, Vanquisher of Evil, Defender of Those in Need, He who sits at the Left Hand of God, greets thee, Serpent, First of the Fallen, Ruler of the Damned...” 

Lucifer's eyes hardened. He yawned. He turned away, pretending to nod off only to pretend to wake himself up with a snort. “Oh, I’m sorry. Were you saying something, Gabe?”

 _Gabe? Gabriel? As in the Archangel Gabriel?_ Chloe didn’t know much about the Bible, but even she had heard this name. 

Gabriel continued, “Poison of God, Prince of the Power of Air, Destroyer, Adversary--”

Lucifer was having none of it. “Gabe, I know it has been millennia, but I'd recognize your ugly mug anywhere. And it is not as though I could forget the face of my own twin - however much I’ve tried. I’d wager it’s safe to skip the introductions. And, anyway, unless I’ve missed something, Mikey is capable of speaking for himself.”

Gabe just looked at him blankly. “The intercession is for your protection, Samael.”

_Samael? Why did they keep calling Lucifer 'Samael'? And, and... The Archangel Michael was Lucifer's_ twin? _That meant the patron saint of policemen everywhere was her (former?) partner's nemesis?_

“That name is no longer among my titles.” Lucifer snapped.

“But if he Speaks, he could—“

“Gabe, I fell. I didn’t get amnesia. I’m aware of what it means to be half of the demiurge.”

Crossing his legs, Lucifer looked directly at his twin for the first time. “Michael, will speak to me directly or he will not be heard.”

Gabriel paused in askance to Michael, who made no effort to keep his offense hidden. He took a livid breath and spoke in a furious tremble.

“Stand down, Samael.”

Lucifer was delighted. “But, Brother, I do so enjoy being up!”

Michael's voice was dangerous. "I have deigned to speak - and to one such as you. Continued insolence will not bode well."

At this, Lucifer's face became all innocence and faux surprise.

Michael carried on, “The Host will not suffer your aggression long.”

“Aggression?" Lucifer's surprise seemed genuine now. "What in the Heavens am I being accused of this time?”

“Sammy,” Michael said, exasperation adding volume to his words, “you have a garrison encamped at every single one of the pillars holding the Heavens above the Earth.”

“Territories which are firmly within my dominion, Brother.”

“That was eons ago!”

Lucifer’s eyebrow rose high on his forehead. “Unless Father has modified his edict,” he said, pausing to give Michael time to interject, "or unless the Apocalypse somehow started without my noticing,” another pause, “Earth remains mine.” 

Chloe gulped. _Earth? As in, the entire planet?_

Michael tried another tact. “Why would you want it, after all this time? Surely even you can see that there is already enough suffering here.”

It was the wrong thing to say. Lucifer’s expression turned stony. “It has been millennia since you shared my confidences, Twin.” Lucifer said, disdain lacing each syllable. “Whatever led you to believe you could be worthy now?" 

Lucifer's eyes stayed brown, but Chloe could feel the rising presence of wrath filling the room. Its presence cloistering and thick.

Then the storm passed. Lucifer sighed and waved his hand around in a vague dismissal of the issue. "Regardless, Father’s edicts are eternal. You lack authority in this matter. It is not I who has overstepped his bounds. Go home, Mikey.”

Michael wore his anger differently than Lucifer, but it was no less intense. His eyes blazed white at the flippant dismissal, and Chloe looked away in discomfort. “I told them it was useless to parlay. You are as prideful as ever, if not worse. Why Father allows it, I'll never understand.”

Lucifer just chuffed a laugh. “Please," he said, "this is just foreplay. Now that you've botched the opening salvos, our brothers and sisters can send someone with tact, someone, perhaps, who knows to bring more leverage than the simple passage of time." Lucifer moved again to dismiss Michael.

“Samael, it is not my wish to revisit old hostilities.” 

But Lucifer had pulled out his phone and started punching around on the keys. “What?” he said, feigning obliviousness. “Are you still here?”

“This is pointless," Michael grumbled. "Come, Brothers,” and the archangel spun on his heel. “Let the Failure of Heaven get back to his misrule.”

Taking a few steps forward, he turned and spoke over his shoulder. “And, Samael, do handle your demon problem. The living are mine to protect. I will not suffer humankind to be sullied by your grubby hellions. Get your kingdom in order before I come down here and do it for you.”

And with a gust of air, the three visitors were gone.

Lucifer didn’t waste a second. He barked orders to the demon standing unobtrusively to his right. Then, without acknowledging Chloe or Maze, barked at the demons surrounding them. Rough arms picked Chloe off the ground and hauled her away. She hazarded one more glance in Lucifer’s direction, but he was already absorbed in another conversation. It was like she wasn't even there, _Like I don't even matter,_ Chloe thought, fuming. To her left, Maze was also being hauled along, but without struggle. The demon’s smug face was the last thing Chloe saw before everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay. We lost a dear friend unexpectedly and it threw everything into chaos there for a bit.


	8. Snowball

Chloe’s eyes blinked open and instantly she wanted to close them again.

Ever since the loft, things had been topsy-turvy, but this was ridiculous. Lucifer was here. There, against the wall, in the flesh. But this wasn’t either of the Lucifers she knew. This was neither the playboy-cum-police consultant that had charmed his way into her life nor Beelzebub, the mercurial Lord of Hell, who stalked her nightmares. And it certainly wasn’t the stranger who was his twin (of that she was sure). The man before her was doubled over, head in hands: angst personified. It was unnatural, and it pissed Chloe off. 

_What right did he have to be upset? Lucifer wasn’t the one tossed into a -- what is this anyway? A makeshift cell? How nice of His Royal Highness to come visit._

Chloe stewed, eyeing the room beyond her cell and its solid, closed door. All this time, Lucifer had hidden a prison in his basement.

 _Of course he had._ She had been so blind.

Once again, Chloe sat up. And, once again, Lucifer’s eyes were drawn to the motion like magnets. This time, however, his brown eyes skittered away almost instantly, as though burned at the sight of her. 

But not before she caught the flare of red in his irises. 

Primal instincts sent her scrambling backward, trying to put distance between herself and the Devil who had her caged. 

He ran his hands over his face, then began fiddling uselessly with his ring. A heavy silence hung in the room before he spoke. 

“Surely, Detective,” he started, “Surely you know that I--” 

The Devil sighed and began again, keeping his gaze on the floor. “I am not a threat to you, Chloe.”

The cinderblocks of the wall were solid and reassuring against her back. Even so, Chloe knew she should be more cautious. She knew the drill by heart, _identify with the perpetrator, built rapport, keep them talking, de-escalate the situation._ But she’d been through a lot lately and this asshole had been her partner. 

The betrayal cut deep. 

So instead of open-ended questions designed to inspire monologuing, Chloe found herself nearly spitting with rage.

“‘Not a threat,’ huh? Says the, the _creature_ who just tossed me into a cage!”

It satisfied her somewhat to see him flinch as the words landed. He didn’t look up, but Chloe had the impression Lucifer was preparing a response when they were both distracted by the loud cackling coming from Chloe’s right. 

Maze.

In the heat of the moment, Chloe had completely forgotten that the demon had been dragged out along with her. But hearing Maze laugh now only made Chloe’s blood boil hotter.

_Surrounded by damned assholes._

Before Chloe could fantasize about a fitting revenge, Maze said something in the guttural language of Hell, then quickly switched into mocking English. 

“You really screwed the pooch on this one, Lucifer.” 

A spasm of coughs wracked Maze at the end. It was clear that the effort of the past few hours had cost the demoness dearly. 

Not that Chloe cared.

Lucifer didn’t respond to Maze, either, except to release his breath in a long, slow exhalation. Eventually he raised his head, squaring his shoulders in the manner of a condemned man facing the firing squad, and stood. As he rose, the Devil allowed his true form to manifest, incandescent eyes focused intently on Maze. 

Chloe had never been so glad to be forgotten. 

As Lucifer stopped in front of the bars closest to Maze, the demon rotated, bowing low in that same hated gesture of obsequience that made Chloe so nauseous. When Lucifer spoke, the syllables were rough and hard. Maze replied without moving her forehead from the floor, right up until Lucifer pulled out a demon blade and cut a gash down the palm of his right hand. At the gesture, Maze raised herself to the kneeling position, then reached both arms through the bars so that Lucifer could hand the blade to her. Without hesitation, Maze made a similar cut, holding the bleeding hand out as an offering to her King. The way they clasp hands was nothing special, but Chloe was disgusted to see each of them lick the mixture off their palm afterward. At which point, Lucifer got right to the point of barking out orders.

Maze gave a curt nod and turned toward Chloe. Predictably, Chloe’s heart rate spiked as Maze approached. Behind her, Lucifer pinched the bridge of his ruined nose and looked blankly into the middle distance. His genteel mannerisms were sharply at odds with his fetid claws and disfigured hands. 

Chloe found this cold, detached being deeply unsettling. Ironically. it almost felt as though the partner she’d trusted was possessed. Futilely, her mind tried to supply and explanation in line with her former worldview. _Could it be multiple personality disorder?_

Denial was a potent temptation.

“Decker!” Maze barked, snapping her fingers in front of Chloe’s face. “Decker!”

Chloe brought her focus around to the demon, squinting in fury. She felt powerless, knowing first-hand how easily Maze could overpower her (and if not Maze, Lucifer behind her). The Detective wished desperately to understand what they wanted, why the Devil had sought her out, why a demon had taken up residence in her spare bedroom, what game they were playing with her now…

She wanted to see Trixie again.

“Decker, I don’t give a shit how mad you are. We have to work together if we’re going to get out of this. You can hate me later. Lucifer can give us some cover, but we’re going to have to help him, too.”

Chloe was beyond forming a coherent response to that. But Maze barrelled through. 

“Close your eyes.”

“What?” 

Maze had to be kidding. _I’m trapped alone with the Devil and a demon and she wants me to close my eyes?_

“Close them. Neither of us want you to see what is going to happen next.” 

“What?” Chloe just… couldn’t even. 

_What could possibly be worse?_

“Trust me. Keep ‘em shut until I say.”

Chloe scoffed. “Trust you?” 

“Decker, seriously. Do you want out of here or not?”

In her periphery, Chloe saw Lucifer shift his weight. He was either uncomfortable or impatient, maybe both.

Chloe thought about refusing out of pure spite. She had no intention of trusting Maze ever again. But realistically, did it make a difference whether her eyes were open? She was out-matched regardless. 

Sighing, Chloe drew her knees to her chest, tucking them into her arms and flipping Maze not one, but two, birds. Then she plunked her forehead onto her knees and closed her eyes.

Maze shuffled off and a low chanting began. Chloe recognized Lucifer’s voice, amplified in a way that put the hairs on the back of her neck on end and reminded her of harmonics. The air smelled of ozone. 

And then it stopped. 

Maze’s hand on her shoulder had Chloe flinching in surprise. 

“Okay, now for the fun part.” 

Chloe knew from experience she was not going to like what came next. But as the demon prattled on, Chloe’s mind snagged on the fact that, although still bandaged, Maze’s body appeared completely restored. The yellowing bruises? Gone. Bone-deep contusion over Maze’s brow? Healed.

“Decker!” Maze was snapping again. 

“Seriously, Lucifer, if you broke Decker’s mind, I’m going to be pissed.” 

But the Devil only turned away in silence, fisting his gnarled hands.

“Decker! For the love of fuck, will you just listen? Your part is easy. Stay there until I give you the word. Every time Lucifer so much as looks at you, scream.” The demoness threw a smirk at the Devil behind her. “Scream like the Devil is after you. Scream your lungs out. Got it?”

As if it could get more bizarre. 

Chloe nodded.

Without further ado, Maze winked. Then she ran straight at the wall, launching herself in a backflip high up on the bars above Lucifer, a hail of fists, feet and destruction. 

Lucifer didn’t even flinch. He just reached over, grabbed Maze with one hand, and _pulled her through the iron bars._

It was clear from the beginning that Maze was enjoying herself immensely. Satan, on the other hand, fought woodenly, despite his grace and obvious skill. 

Eventually, Lucifer raised his gaze to Chloe, failing to hide an expression of pure misery as she let out the requisite scream. They fought more. His eyes reached Chloe’s: she screamed. The pattern repeated. It wasn’t long until the simple room resembled a war zone. 

Without warning, Lucifer tossed Maze into the wall next to Chloe’s huddling form. He picked up a fallen stool, crumpling it in his hands like a snowball, then launched it into the cinderblock wall of the cell. 

Chloe felt her heart stop at the gratuitous display of power.

A dark passage emerged from the rubble. The dank musk of stale air rushed into the room. _What was that?_

Maze, already back on her feet, was dragging Chloe forward. 

“What are you waiting for? This is our exit.”


	9. Sound Machine

Stupified, Chloe staggered forward, swerving hard to give the Devil a wide berth as Maze dragged her toward the darkness. 

Satan kept his eyes down. 

Maze moved quickly, untroubled by either the debris littering the floor or the Lord of Hell looming along their path. Chloe herself was not nearly as impervious. Lurching past Lucifer, she felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise. And when they were clear, Chloe was equally aware of his eyes on her, on the vulnerability of having the Devil in her blind spot.

They entered the passageway. Maze broke into a full sprint, barely giving Chloe time to register that Lucifer had been telling the truth about Lux’s prohibition tunnels. _Go Figure._ Chloe was struggling to keep up, struggling to wrest her hand from the demon’s grip, struggling to get her autonomy back. But Maze was relentless. She held tight as they emerged into the alley’s blinding brightness and showed no signs of letting up - even after they’d cleared an entire city block. 

“Maze! Stop!”

“Not here, Decker.”

“Maze! Let. Me. Go--” Unable to wrench her arm away, Chloe flung herself down to the pavement with all the grace of a three-year old having a tantrum. 

_Going to feel that tomorrow for sure._

Maze looked exactly like a parent wondering whether there was any point in rationalizing with her charge, or whether it made more sense to just carry her away bodily.

“We got away.” Chloe panted. “Leave me alone.”

“No can do, Decker. Lucifer and I cut a covenant.” The demons' eyes were scanning passerbys, checking for threats.

“Yeah,” Chloe said, catching her breath. “I saw your creepy, little blood pact. What does that have to do with me? Leave me out of it.”

“Are you fucking kidding? It was all about you!” Maze moved as though to drag Chloe back to her feet, clearly deciding in favor of carrying her bodily. “We can talk about it later.”

“We’re not talking about it at all, Maze. We’re done.” Chloe pushed herself back on her feet before Maze had the chance, drawing herself up to her full height.

“Why?” Maze challenged, stepping into Chloe’s space. “Because suddenly you realized I’ve been a demon _all along?_ Finally ready to tell me off?” Maze raised her scarred eyebrow. “What did it, Decker? The knife thing?”

“Yes, that!” Chloe nearly shouted. “And, you know, everything!”

“You’re overreacting.” 

“Excuse me?”

“I didn’t draw blood, I didn’t break anything. There probably won’t even be bruises.” Maze looked down, suddenly fascinated by the pavement. “I would never hurt you, Decker.”

“Just kidnap me, hold me and knife point, and hand me over to the Devil.”

“Hey, whatever turns you on, man.”

Chloe couldn’t help herself; she snorted. _There was the Maze she knew._

“Maze, it is too much. I need space. Some time.”

“No. Stick together: that was His condition.”

“Condition for what?”

Maze rolled here eyes. “No way I’m explaining that here.”

They were starting to draw attention to themselves, and Chloe had to admit this wasn’t a good place for hashing out the crazy new reality that was her life. _Take a deep breath. Think._

She’d escaped Lux for the second time that day. And she was alive. But she sure as hell wasn’t ready to be alone with a demon, even if it was one she supposedly knew. 

“Linda’s?”

“Actually, there’s a Salvation Army on Hollywood Boulevard, over by the the edge of Thai Town that would work. And it’s closer.”

“The thrift shop? No, wait, that one’s the youth center with a chapel, right? You-” Chloe gestured, at a loss, “you want to take me... to church?” 

Maze just shrugged. Chloe swore she was starting to get motion sickness from all the abrupt twists and turns this day was making.

Maze explained, “I”m all for exhibitionism, Decker, but this really isn’t the time. Better to talk where Celestial ears aren’t listening.”

Chloe felt her jaw drop. “And that’s a _church?”_

“I’ll text my Uber driver to come get us. You don’t look so hot.”

Chloe let out another snort. “Pot, Kettle.”

***

Maze gave Minjun, her favorite Uber driver, one last eye fuck before bounding out of the black suburban. 

Across the street, they approached a depressing mid-century cement and brick monstrosity, walking under a faded blue banner that proclaimed the “Ejercito de Salvation.” Chloe understood just enough Spanish to know they’d found the right place.

“Have you been here before?” she couldn’t help but ask. The aesthetics on this place were about as far from the glamour of Lux as you could get -- at least without leaving Hollywood.

“Well, not on purpose.” Maze answered vaguely, swinging open a door.

The place was humming. Part community center, part gym, part shelter, part church, there didn’t seem to be any shortage of activity in the hodgepodge space. Chloe looked at Maze, wondering how on earth the demon expected to find a quiet place to talk amid all the chaos. Unfazed, Maze sauntered past the reception desk - gleefully daring anyone to stop them - and ducked into one of the indoor basketball courts. 

Aside from a vigorous game of half court scrapped together by a couple of teens, Chloe couldn’t see anything special about the space. The entire building was worn, sad, and dirty looking. It smelled of sweat. But Maze smiled, “There’s a prayer group meeting right overhead,” she said, pointing to the high ceiling. “Perfect cover.”

“What?” Chloe said, wondering if she’d misheard over the racket of squeaking shoes and dribbling balls.

“Prayers of the righteous.” Maze explained, rolling her eyes. “Works like a sound machine. Heaven will be so focused on picking up their chatter, we’ll be able to talk unmolested.”

 _Well there you have it,_ Chloe thought. _The crazy just never stops._

She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to restart her brain - or at least bring some coherence to her thoughts. 

“So you’re saying angels - in Heaven - can usually hear whatever we say?”

“Well, only if they’re paying attention.” Maze corrected. “They don’t, generally. But that bastard Archangel, Michael, laid eyes on you personally. And you just walked out Satan’s side door with a demon in tow, so best to play it safe.”

Chloe rubbed her face. She wanted to fall asleep for a million years, then wake up to find that all of this was a dream.

“Fine, whatever. Start explaining.”

“What do you want to know?”

 _Of course Maze would be tedious._ “Well, start with what the hell is going on and then maybe finish with why on earth I would ever agree to be in your presence a single solitary second longer than I have to.” Chloe’s crossed her arms in defiance.

Maze’s face took on an echo of the elation Chloe had observed back at Linda’s office. “It is pretty much the best news ever: Lucifer is going to war!”

Feeling very much like Alice in Wonderland, where up was down and down was up, Choe enunciated with extra precision. “Maze, war is bad.”

“Well, I hope it is a war.” Maze continued, undeterred. “Michael, Gabriel, and Sarathiel certainly showed up quickly enough. So it could be.”

And just like that, Chloe’s mind was buried under an avalanche of questions. “Who is Sarathiel?”

“The angel who taunted Lucifer when they first arrived? Michael’s spoiled brat of a protege. Angel of discipline, or penance, or some other boring shit.”

“And they all showed up why?”

“Decker, you were there. For the first time in millenia Lucifer has given the order to occupy Earth. And not just willy-nilly: he’s got us all camped out at Heaven’s weak spots. Entire divisions! Of course those winged pricks are blowing a gasket.” 

Chloe blanched. “Heaven has weak spots?”

“Duh, everything does.”

Maze leapt up and began pacing. “Do you know, when Lucifer banned possession all those years ago, I was depressed for a century. I thought he’d given up! But he shaped this whole planet, it is rightfully his. About damn time he claimed it.”

_So Lucifer didn’t go in for possession after all._

If anything, Chloe was more confused. “Why now all of a sudden?”

Maze made a sly look. “Above my paygrade.”

Chloe filed that away to question later. “So Lucifer is the ruler of Hell- and also Earth?”

If Maze said yes, Chloe’s brain was going to explode on the spot. 

“King of Hell. Earth is more complicated. Michael and Lucifer were each given influence over the living souls, a kind of ‘thank you’ from their dad for their work as the demiurge.”

Chloe’s face was blank.

“The demiurge? Michael the Power and Lucifer the Will?” Maze’s hands went up in the air. “They built the universe together? Seriously, Decker, how have you never heard of this?”

Chloe blinked herself back into the conversation. “I mean I read about it. After… uh… but I just didn’t really think…” 

_I just didn’t want it to really be true._

“Anyway, Earth has always been kind of like a neutral zone between Heaven and Hell. Demons and angels are both allowed - and both under strict orders not to engage. No one ever really stays for long. Technically either Michael or Lucifer could claim lordship, but neither has been interested -- until now. I bet Michael is pissed that Lucifer beat him to the punch!”

“So,” Chloe’s brain was churning, “you went to enlist in Lucifer’s new war. Why drag me along?”

Maze paused in her pacing, looking stymied. “Look, I piss Lucifer off a lot. Usually I just avoid him for a decade. But, like I said, that means missing all the fun. Plus, you know, I’d rather not die.”

“Die?”

“The punishment for betraying the Lord of Hell is death. At a slowness of his choosing.”

Chloe shivered.

 _"Is he dangerous?"_ She had asked. How ridiculously naive she must seem.

“Wait, you betrayed Lucifer?”

“Decker, seriously, the effects of that mangy demon’s chloroform should have worn off by now. Why aren’t you tracking?”

Maze gave Chloe a once over, as though her physical appearance would explain things.

_Chloroform?_

The basketball players took a water break and started joking around in her peripheral vision.

“I was working with Cain to get Lucifer back in hell and Cain off the planet,” Maze said, checking Chloe’s expression closely to be certain she was following. “Plan was for Cain to marry you, you know, to cure his mark, then for me to kill him and frame Lucifer…”

Chloe made a strangled sound.

“But then Cain went and fell in love with you and decided he wanted to live, double-crossed me, and tried to assassinate Lucifer with my blade. So, obviously Lucifer is pissed.”

“Maze,” Chloe choked out, “Why on earth would you do any of that?”

Maze looked down again. “He wouldn’t take me home.”

“Home?” Clearly Maze didn’t mean their apartment. “Wait, you mean ‘Hell’ home?”

A half nod and Maze was already explaining. “I’m over it now, don’t worry. Just these pesky damn emotions…”

“Wait, Cain did this to you?”

Maze nearly choked. “What! Decker, seriously. A dozen professional thugs did this to me - and only because I was surprised. Anyway, what matters is what I did to _them!”_

Chloe could imagine, and she didn’t want to.

The kids had resumed the game with jump ball.

“I still don’t understand. Maze, what you did to me today was _not okay._ Betrayal or not, what the hell were you thinking?”

“Don’t you get it, Decker? Lucifer would never hurt me in front of you, not seriously. And he sure as fuck wouldn’t do anything to risk _your_ safety. You’re the perfect leverage!”

Chloe could feel her frustration rising again. “If my presence is so damn special, why’d we both get tossed into his creepy basement dungeon?”

Maze waved the thought off like it was nothing. “Well, the Devil does have to keep up appearances.” 

Chloe began to sputter; Maze laughed. “Can you imagine what would happen if He didn’t use a heavy hand to maintain order? With thousands of demons topside? He can’t afford to be lenient - especially now. Not that He goes in much for mercy anyway. And worse, there’s a pack of Celestials inviting themselves over, putting their noses in Lucifer’s business. Hell forbid they realize your connection with the big, scary Adversary. Ergo, Lucifer pretending he can’t tell you from Adam and no special treatment for either of us. Standing Shamar Order aside, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Chloe deadpanned. “What the hell is a sha-whatever?”

“Shamar? It’s a watchman’s order, meaning observe but don’t engage. Or if engaged, do no harm: pussy stuff. Lucifer’s way of letting the rank and file know that you are under his protection.”

Chloe was flabbergasted. She had specifically asked Him not to do that. And yet she also felt glad - let them all stay away. Angels too. They were every bit as scary, if not moreso.

“Getting stalked, kidnapped, and then locked up in a dungeon doesn’t count as harm?”

Maze laughed again. “What were you expecting, Decker? We’re demons. And you’re _fine.”_

“I’m not fine.”

“Decker, they used chloroform instead of brute force. Basically kid gloves.”

Yet again, Chloe was startled to hear Maze laugh. 

“I’d really like to see what Lucifer would do to the demon dumb enough to knock you out with a blow to the head. Did you see his face when we walked in?” Maze chortled “Oh, man.”

“Maze, Friends don’t hold each other at knife point or endorse the use of chloroform. And I do need space. I don’t care what kind of orders Lucifer gave, or if you all think - somehow - that you’re being gentle. You need to leave me alone.” 

A shadow of hurt crossed the demon’s face. 

Chloe softened. “Please, Maze.”

The demon made as though to sit beside Chloe on the bench, noticed the detective’s tensing shoulders, and sat down anyway. Chloe scooted away to prove her point.

“Like I said: no can do. Covenant orders are absolute. You’re stuck with me.”

“Really?” Chloe queried, tone conveying she believed the exact opposite. The detective pulled out her phone. She hadn’t made a deal with Lucifer, but Maze - apparently - had. And, shrewd Devil, He knew He didn’t need Chloe’s approval to get what He wanted. Once Maze was committed, Chloe would be hard pressed to find a hiding place clever enough that Maze couldn’t sniff it out. Lucifer had progressed from ordering a stalker to assigning a chaperone. She had to get Him to call it off.

“What are you doing?” Maze asked, apprehensive.

“I’m going to give Lucifer a piece of my mind, and demand my space. I need it. I’m at my breaking point and He needs to stop being a chauvinist asshole.”

“Decker-” Maze made to grab the phone, but stopped, thinking better of it. “Chloe, don’t. This assignment can be win-win. You chose to live with me. We’re still technically roommates. And anyway, Lucifer won’t back down on this. If you’re going to have a protective detail, at least it is someone you know. Plus, the Little Human likes me-”

At the mention of Trixie, Chloe’s brain snapped into focus. _What time is it?_

“Shit, Maze. I have to go get Trixie. I don’t want to see you at home when I get back. I’m serious: I will call Lucifer if I have to.”

And, without waiting for an answer, Chloe was headed out the door, Lyft app already open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Leap Day, ya'll!
> 
> (I sure needed it. Chloe and Maze just wouldn't. stop. talking. Also, writing everything exclusively from Chloe's POV comes with some unique challenges.) 
> 
> Stick with me. I ship Deckerstar x 100, and I know Chloe and Lucifer would make it through Hell or high water - literally - to be with each other.


	10. Restraint

It rained that night, because of course it did.

The City of Angels, where there’s only ever a 3% chance of a raindrop hitting the ground, experienced a big, gloppy rainstorm. 

Maze was out there, drenched. Chloe was sure of it. But, as Chloe kept reminding herself, that was on Maze, not on her.

She’d bundled Trixie off to Nana’s, a last-minute favor she’d be paying for in spades, no doubt. But the apartment just didn’t feel safe (not that anywhere did). And there was no way Chloe was going to get any sort of mental clarity while worrying about her daughter. 

Trying to make the most of the time she had, Chloe stared at the page in front of her: an analysis of Lucifer’s behavior. She’d already failed at understanding Maze. Beside her, she had an old Bible (from Dan, early in their marriage), and her gun. She wished desperately for a supernatural weapon, if such a thing existed. 

Trying to process her life was giving Chloe a bad case of the heebie-Jeeves.

The detective sat at her dining room table, staring at her handwritten timeline. It detailed every interaction since the loft, everything she could recall Him having actually having said. 

It wasn’t much. 

As she thought about it. it was Lucifer’s silence that was most unnerving. His words themselves had been civil, almost contrite (“the fault is mine; I will abide your wishes; I am not a threat”), but also unflinchingly brutal (“I ordered him; I killed Cain; I fell”), and terrifying, too (“Earth is within my dominion”).

_Earth. The entire fucking planet._ Chloe’s brain stuck there, wigging out for a minute.

Lucifer’s actions didn’t make any more sense than his words. Here was a being who apparently ruled or influenced two thirds of the known universe. Yet the most frightening thing he’d done since she found out was to push his chest into the muzzle of her gun. _How had he made the gesture seem so threatening?_ Then He’d frightened and angered her by ordering the stalker, who - given what she knew now - was probably better characterized as a protective detail. Of course, He’d also let those demons lock her up in His basement. _Probably ordered them too, actually._ But He’d released her almost immediately, unharmed. Did that make it protective custody? The subsequent faux fight with Maze confused Chloe as much as anything. But through it all, Lucifer hadn’t texted, He hadn’t called. He hadn’t even broken into her house to make an apology breakfast. What He had done was put some sort of voodoo do-not-hurt order out to protect her and healed Maze. What evil motive did that hide? To make her trust Him? Toward what end? 

He wasn’t exactly giving her space, but in a messed up Lucifer way, it seemed like He was trying. Was it also remotely possible that Lucifer genuinely thought He was protecting Chloe from something worse? 

_Was there something worse than the Devil?_

_Could the Devil be believed?_

Chloe was in over her head. How much did the existence of the supernatural change the rules, exactly? Was ordering a minion to tail His very not-immortal police partner across town a gross abuse of power or just a common sense precaution for the calibre of being who had a shot at rivaling God? God who already had the power to make little Chloe Decker do anything he wanted? God who apparently already knew every detail of her life. _God who had somehow convinced an entire religion that guardian angels weren’t creepy._ Shouldn’t Chloe be more upset with God than she was with Lucifer? If God _made_ Lucifer, was it His fault, or Lucifer's? 

Lucifer was at least keeping his distance, so there were some boundaries. But how could Chloe establish healthy boundaries with God — an omnipotent, omniscient, omnipresent, and immortal being?

And… If God really had created them all, was the idea of privacy even valid? What about autonomy? Or what about safety? 

Chloe’s mind was spiraling.

If, at any moment a member of Lucifer’s dysfunctional family had the power to just snuff Trixie out of existence - for any reason or no reason at all, if that was true, then what difference did it make if there was a demon lurking in the yard? Or sleeping in the second bedroom? Linda has said Chloe wouldn’t be damned for the friendship. Assuming Chloe could believe Linda, what then? What had Chloe accomplished by sending Trixie to Nana’s for the week other than inconveniencing her mother, disrupting Trixie’s life, and giving herself a headache?

Chloe could say one thing for certain: This was not what she expected. Not a reality she had remotely considered as plausible. And not how she would have expected the Devil to act if it was. 

Since the Loft had Lucifer hadn’t reached out to her at all. Not because He’d lost track of her when she’d gone into hiding, but because He had clearly chosen to give Chloe space. 

_Why?_

Awareness of other people’s boundaries wasn’t exactly Lucifer’s thing. What was His motivation? What was the apparent Lord of Hell doing?

_And why was He doing it with her?_

What Lucifer had done was refrain from making physical contact with Chloe - nevermind his usual brand of devilish hedonism. The constant tiny touches He had previously made appear so casual were gone. In their place was stillness, distance, reticence. When He wasn’t furious, or putting on a show for His brothers, He’d been eerily subdued.

She thought of his haughty behavior during their first confrontation at Lux. She thought of Maze saying “the Devil does have to keep up appearances.” Maybe He did. But He’d still cleared the entire room for her. What did that mean?

Far as she could tell, Lucifer didn’t seem to have much interest in her soul or her servitude - or anyone’s for that matter. And aside from His reaction when she’d pointed a gun at Him, Lucifer had been nothing but civil during their interactions. (Meanwhile, Chloe had shot him, stormed into his house, and accused him of wrongdoing.)

For all Chloe knew, Lucifer was showing restraint.

_Or was a lion, toying with a mouse._

But even if she was willing to consider the remote possibility that the Embodiment of Evil _could_ maybe, somehow, possibly deserve the benefit of the doubt… If she could get past millions of other people’s opinions and all of recorded history, how could Chloe explain Lucifer’s instant reconciliation with Maze? 

Chloe was certain that Maze’s little knife trick had earned Lucifer's displeasure. She had also thought, once upon a time, that her own wellbeing had mattered to Lucifer. (After all, hadn’t he said that just before all Hell broke loose? “You're safe, that’s all that matters.”) But He’d made up with Maze after less than five minutes of groveling and grunting. Throw in a little blood-letting for the grand finale and suddenly Satan thought everything was copacetic again. Was He kidding? 

Surely, if Lucifer knew Chloe at all, if He cared, then He’d know how wretched, how _not okay,_ she was with the idea of ever letting Maze into her life again. He’d never force her. Certainly never order it.

_It didn’t make sense._

If He was trying to torture her, it was a rather bizarre approach. _Effective though._

Did Lucifer really think His siblings were out to get her? We’re things that dire? What kind of dysfunctional family did He have?

_Was He just being melodramatic again?_

Was she?

Chloe looked at her phone. The last text from Lucifer was that stupid purple devil emoji and a coffee cup, so she’d know he’d gone to get them refreshments. 

_Because the Devil knew her coffee order._

She sighed. 

_Couldn’t make it worse._

But how to break the ice. Everything had changed. Was she supposed to call him Sire? Lord? Your Infernal Highness? (She couldn’t even imagine…) How did one properly address the Devil?

Chloe stared out the window, wishing the stars were visible. She picked up her phone and typed out the first thing that came to mind.

**C: Are you there Satan? It’s me, Chloe.**

Chloe looked at the words - sent! - shocked at her own chutzpah. _A dorky joke, I sent him a—_

The answering message arrived within seconds. 

**L: Detective?**

Crap: He was awake. He was awake and he was interrupting her Devil/Judy Blume/OMG is it really 2am freak out.

_Of course He was awake. Of course He was texting. Two in the morning was prime time for Mr. Devil-May-Care._

But what should she say? 

There was so much Chloe wanted to ask, and yet almost nothing she felt brave enough to say.

**C: Are you really going to war?**

_Damn it, Chloe, not a good opener._

But in for a penny in for a pound. They had to start somewhere.

**L: Did you mean to text my Father? He’s the omniscient one, not me.**

The reminder that God was literally her partner’s father made Chloe’s stomach drop. But at least the evasion was familiar territory.

**C: Do you WANT to go to war?**

They were already to the point where it took will power to avoid using the eye roll emoji.

**L: Been there, done that.**  
**L: Bit of a snooze-fest, really.**

Of course, the world’s first rebel. It was like pulling teeth.

**C: So Maze is lying then, about “enlisting”?**

The three dots appeared. Then disappeared. Finally…

**L: What am I, the suspect now? Is this an interrogation?**  
**L: Do I get handcuffs?**

Chloe knew He was avoiding answering her, but still she was derailed.

**C: I don’t know what you are. That’s the point!**

**L: And your go-to question on that was war? Not murder, not sin, but ‘Are you a warmongering sort of devil’? Going straight for the jugular, then? Gearing up to save the world from big bad ol’ me?**  
**L: Not as though you would be the first...**

He was getting wound up. Chloe sighed. Apparently texting could make it worse. 

She typed hurriedly.

**C: The profile doesn’t match.**  
**C: Are things really so dire?**

**L: This from the imposter pretending to be the Detective!**

**C: What?**  
**C: What are you talking about???**

**L: Everyone knows the Detective goes to bed by 9.**  
**L: It is five hours past!**

**C: Everyone does NOT know that.**

**L: Exactly.**

**C: Exactly?**

Texting, it was easy to forget that he was Satan. Easy to slip into old habits, the comfortable banter of their partnership.

**L: Exactly: *I* know that. Because I am me.**

**C: Very helpful Lucifer, thank you.**

**L: The point is that you do know me, Detective.**

**C: Right. I know the guy who told the Archangel Michael to bugger off.**

**L: Anyone in their right mind would do that. Complete bore.**

It was such a Lucifer thing to say, she snorted. But she wasn’t ready yet; He hadn’t answered anything. So the yearning for reconciliation just added fuel to the fire of Chloe’s frustration.

**C: Well, pretty sure I don’t know the guy who gave Maze a high-five after she held me at knife point.**

**L: I didn’t—**

_Shoot. Don’t make Him mad… Don’t make Him mad..._

**L: That was a _covenant cut,_ Detective. Entirely different.**

She could see him straightening up, indignant and prissy. Chloe had her finger on the “send” button, ready to demand that he explain, when she panicked. 

Deleting the I’ll-advised attempt at bossing the Devil, she went for something softer. (Keenly aware that three traitorous dots were communicating her internal anguish to Lucifer all the while.)

**C: Different how?**

**L: Has Maze really not explained anything?**

**C: I’m asking you.**

**L: Rather difficult to explain over text, Detective.**

**C: So you are just avoiding all my questions then?**

**L: What? No. I’m an open book.**  
**L: Ask me anything you like: Burning lakes of sulfur? Topography of the Nine Circles? Hitler? Whatever you wish...**

Chloe smirked. _Gotcha._

**C: And what if I ask to be left alone?**

There was a pause before Lucifer’s response appeared.

**L: As I said, Detective: I will abide by your wishes. Am abiding, much to my dismay.**

**C: That includes Maze. Would you call her off? No stalkers or bodyguards, no infernal creatures skulking in the shadows?**

**L: Nobody is skulking!**

**C: Lucifer, I need space.**

**L: You need protection.**

**C: I’m serious! I’m stressed, and I’m scared, and I just want to be left alone. Having her here is TERRIFYING.**

The dots danced for quite awhile.

**L: Without her there, I will be terrified.**  
**L: Not that you trust me enough for my opinion on the subject to matter.**

**C: I don’t understand.**

**L: No, you just don’t believe me. Still.**  
**L: Well done, Dad. Quite the ironic twist.**

Chloe looked around the living room, at the life she had once taken for granted. The life she wanted back.

**C: Lucifer, please.**

Silence.

She wasn’t sure what else she could do. Talking Maze out of anything had felt impossible even before. And every time Lucifer had listened, it had felt like a miracle.

_Maybe it had been._

Her phone was still silent. It felt like the walls were closing in. There was nowhere to go. Nowhere to hide.

Chloe stretched, gathering her things. She would try, somehow to sleep.

The phone vibrated.

**L: I will make you a deal. If you give me the opportunity to explain everything fully and completely in person, I will allow you to select the level of protection you desire - or to remove it entirely.**

Chloe stared at the screen. _In person._

**C: Is this my deal with the Devil?**

**L: It Isn't as though I’m asking for your soul, Detective.**

**C: Is there fine print?**

**L: Just a quid pro quo arrangement, plainly stated.**

Feeling dizzy with relief, terror, and suspicion, Chloe fell back onto old patterns.

**C: Can I sleep on it?**

**L: I'd rather you slept on me.**  


**C: Lucifer...**  


**L: But, of course. Sleep well, Detective.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day one of quarantine: I figure we could all use a distraction. That said, with everything going on, I'm not feeling my most clear-headed or objective. Feedback on this chapter extra-welcome. 
> 
> Stay healthy, everyone! Happy St. Pat's!


	11. Safe Passage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Over a month of quarantine already. Such strange times, I hope everyone is staying well.

Lux was quiet when she entered. _The Devil’s lair._ No, she wasn’t thinking that. It was just a building. Just a building she’d visited a hundred times.

She heard Lucifer at the piano as soon as she was through the door. The classical song was mournful and complex, something she couldn’t place. Despite her best efforts to stay calm, Chloe’s heart skittered, adrenaline pumping through her veins. 

She’d been here twice already: she could do this. But it was different without anger to make her brave, or Maze, forcing her into it. 

_Unnatural._

When Chloe reached the edge of the dance floor balcony the panic started up in earnest: she could see Him. He looked as he always had, her perfectly coiffed playboy of a partner, physique enticing, styling impeccable.

_But looks can be deceiving._

_Were deceiving._

_Are._

Chloe had the urge to both vomit and run, her stomach roiling with nausea as she settled on an ungainly plop atop the stairs. _Satan’s stairs._ She wiped her clammy palms across her jeans, trying to collect herself. She could do this. She would.

She needed her life back.

The notes didn’t falter; either he didn’t know she was there, or he was giving her time to focus on her breathing. Chloe tried not to think about what she was doing. Instead, she took the opportunity to truly observe him. If he knew she was there, he was studious in avoiding her gaze. Instead, he seemed focused on his hands, watching their progression up and down the keyboard. And she had to admit that his hands seemed to dance with a life all their own. In contrast, his posture was tight, coiled, and closed. Ultimately, it was that telltale stillness that told her that, yes, he knew she was there. 

She gulped. Playing the gentleman, Lucifer wasn’t calling her out for being a coward. Was this hard for him, too? What must he think of her?

 _“Lucifer, we’re partners!”_

And then she’d run. Only the instinct to stay close to Trixie had kept her from skipping town entirely. _Proving his point._ After all, who stayed partners with the Devil?

But why had he ever wanted to be partners in the first place? What on earth could the Devil get out of playing cop with the LAPD? 

Well, she’d have to sort through it all eventually. 

Shakily, Chloe stood. She took the stairs slowly, testing her legs each step of the way. And although he didn’t budge from his seat, she heard him begin playing The Bangels’ _Eternal Flame_ in tribute, their song from the Heavy Woolies case: a welcome of sorts.

Crossing the room took all the determination Chloe possessed. It felt like she was walking to her own execution. 

Lucifer carried on as though he hadn’t noticed she was there, letting her take her time crossing the floor. She hoped he couldn’t tell how desperately she was fighting the urge to cower or flee. Clearly, the far side of the piano was as close as she was going to be able to get. 

When her feet stilled, her resolve floundered. She had no idea what to say. He squared his shoulders slightly – as though expecting a rebuff – but kept his gaze averted, giving her privacy. She knew that he knew that she was there, and she felt her silence stretching awkwardly forward.

“Lucifer…” she began raspily, clearing her throat with embarrassment as his gaze snapped up to hers, “…Morningstar. Is that a stage name?”

She was grateful to note that his eyes were a warm brown, as familiar as his next words. “God-given, I’m afraid.”

It was old territory, but with such different meaning now that she had the context. It took her breath away. Grateful that he was willing to play along, she suddenly realized that she needed most of all was the simple reassurance that he was still _him._ That her partner was still her partner. 

“Why don’t you tell me something,” she continued, pulling the distant memory slowly out of the past, “How do we end up in a hailstorm of bullets and yet I walk away without a scratch? I think that’s interesting, don’t you?”

Even shock couldn’t keep Chloe Decker from following a case. She’d read the confused texts from Ella. _Something_ had happened in that loft. Looking at him now, that mystery was very much in the forefront of her mind.

The look Lucifer gave her was heartbreaking. His face seemed haggard and ancient. _How could she not have noticed before?_

“A risk of being immortal-adjacent, I’m afraid.” 

_Of course he’d be focused on the negative._

“Oh, right, immortality.” And just as she felt that she was falling into an eternal pool, never to escape, she found the courage to begin. 

“You cleared the room.”

He gave up playing and pressed his hands into his lap. “A feeble attempt to make my presence more bearable.”

So he had noticed. Chloe didn’t know if that made it better or worse.

Misunderstanding her silence, Lucifer continued. “Of course, if you’d rather not be alone—“

“No, it's fine.” She was far from comfortable, but a roomful of demons sounded worse. “I just don’t understand why. For me?”

He stopped himself before he could say whatever was on the tip of his tongue. Instead, The Prince of Darkness downed what was left of his whiskey and gestured towards the elevator. 

“The seating upstairs is more suitable to this type of tête-à-tête, Detective.” His adam’s apple bobbed. “If you are so inclined?”

She knew what he was asking. It was the first test: Would she follow Satan deeper into his lair or cling to the lobby? Was there anything between them left to salvage? 

Could Chloe even _make_ herself move further into the building? _What was the roadmap here?_

He didn’t rush her. Didn’t shift his body weight presumptively or start off in that direction to pressure her. He had posed it as a legitimate question. Yet his stillness only fed her anxiety, bringing his ‘otherness’ to the front of her mind. The wrongness of a reticent Lucifer made Chloe long for the simple selfishness of the man she’d known before.

She wasn’t sure what his objective was, what Lucifer could possibly get from even an iota of her trust, but so far he’d been playing nice. Whether it was an act or genuine, did she dare push him on it?

In a flash she recalled the bump of his chest colliding with her gun. His majesty lording over a simple banquette. The fury that had nearly unmade her. No, she wasn’t ready to push him on anything. _She knew what He was now, and He was terrifying._

In a murder investigation, the location always mattered: A suspect who killed his victim in their home was saying something different than a suspect who killed the victim at work. _What was Lucifer’s message in changing the venue?_

Their current location was the heart of Satan’s business operation: ground zero for booze, debauchery, and an eternal stream of supplicants and favors. Lately, it had also become his war room, an official space given extra gravitas by the makeshift throne.

The penthouse - despite Lucifer’s inane open door policy - was more intimate. Admittance generally required either an invitation or familiarity. It was a domestic space, set aside for pleasure and personal dealings.

Given the choice, Chloe preferred to be within the softer domestic sphere. But she wasn’t a fool.

“Can we make a deal?” 

Lucifer’s eyes caught hers at once.

“I follow you upstairs, you vouch for my safety and promise safe passage - of my own volition - to this exact spot.”

His lip twitched in an expression of pride, then shuttered into neutrality. When He spoke, the syllables were measured and careful. 

“Wouldn’t you rather negotiate for safe passage out of Lux, Detective? Or better yet, to your home?”

“I was under the impression that the favors in a quid-pro-quo arrangement needed to be of approximately equal value.” Chloe countered, amused despite herself. _He was being protective even now._

“It is not an exact science.” Satan shrugged with strained nonchalance.

“Honestly, Lucifer, I’m not under the illusion that it matters much, whether I’m here or outside — or even at home. Either your intentions are nefarious, or they aren’t.” 

Unsure which of them was more surprised by her candor, Chloe continued, “But I can’t stop feeling like the foolish Fly, stepping into the Spider’s parlor.” she shrugged. “I know you honor your deals - and this way I can’t make it worse by going upstairs.”

“Humans are designed that way.” Lucifer replied, after a beat of silence.

“Foolish?” Chloe asked.

“Frightened,” he said. _Of me._

She couldn’t make herself look at him; naming it was too much.

Standing, the Devil acquiesced. “Okay, Detective, you have your deal: You voluntarily follow me up, I refrain from stealing your soul and instead do everything in my power to ensure your safety while present, and promise to allow your safe, independent return.”

She ignored the bitterness that laced what she hoped was an ironic addition to their deal, and pressed further: “Safe passage.”

He nodded. “As you said.”

“Deal.” said Chloe.

**

The ride up was excruciating. 

Safe passage or not, she wasn’t comfortable in his space. Lucifer had led their little parade, and if he noticed her lagging, he never let on. The Devil merely stepped aside as the elevator doors dinged open, gesturing ‘ladies first.’

Briefly she thought about texting her location to Dan in case something went awry. But the last thing she needed was to get someone else enmeshed in this insanity. No, she’d started this and she would see it through.

So Chloe Decker stood, back pressed against the elevator wall, trying to remember the version of herself that had ridden this same elevator, time after time, perfectly at ease to be in Lucifer’s company. Failing that, she tried to recapture even a hint of the easy camaraderie that had existed between them. 

She failed entirely. 

From where Chloe stood, it looked like Lucifer was failing as well. He had stepped into their shared space only by the barest of inches, his large frame standing stiffly in the farthest corner, eyes glued to her.

The penthouse was a relief.

Lucifer was out of the lift in seconds, long legs striding to the bar.

“I took the liberty of setting out tea,” he said, grabbing a full bottle of whisky that clinked against a glass as he turned to face her. “But if you fancy something stronger, I’d be delighted to oblige.”

Surprised, Chloe blinked, and walked towards the tea set spread before one of his Italian leather sofas.

“Tea with the Devil,” she mused. “Sure, why not?”

Apparently still futzing at the bar, Lucifer called out “make yourself at home,” in such a common, normal way that she sat down before thinking better of it.

Tea was a good idea; something warm in her hands would be comforting. _Who knew that the actual Devil would be so thoughtful?_

_Or such a master manipulator?_

She looked impatiently back toward the bar, ready to get this over with. Lucifer was leaning against the counter, watching her intently.

“Permission to approach?” He asked, with just an echo of his usual joviality, holding his whiskey bottle out as though to say “I come in peace.”

Chloe wanted to say something clever, to remind him that this was his house, but what came out was the barest nod.

He strolled over, languorous stride so different from that of his twin. Chloe felt a chill at the memory. Angel or not, she had _not_ liked Michael.

Lucifer folded himself into the armchair diagonally across from Chloe. It wasn’t the obvious choice. _Was he still maintaining a piano length between them?_ She squinted her eyes, calculating.

Lucifer caught her gaze and looked down, twisting his ring. Chloe wondered, not for the first time, about its significance. _A signet of some kind?_

Silence stretched between them. Chloe set about making tea, just to have something to do. If her hands trembled slightly, neither of them commented.

When she finished and was safely holding the ridiculously ornate tea cup in both hands, Lucifer looked up again.

“Thank you,” he said.

Startled, she was about to ask “what for?” but he continued.

“I know it isn’t… isn’t pleasant, to be in close quarters with me.” He chuffed, mirthlessly. “So many would have run and never looked back.”

He was staring straight into her eyes, his sincerity piercing into her soul. She shuddered at the sheer intensity of it; Lucifer broke eye contact immediately.

Speaking to his lap, the Devil continued, “I was certain I’d never see you again. A third visit is more than I dared hope,” he smiled mirthlessly, swirling his lowball glass and setting the whiskey into motion, “more than I deserve, surely.”

Chloe looked down at her hands, wrapped around the yet un-tasted tea, loath to remind him that only the first ‘visit’ had been voluntary. 

She had not really considered the situation from His perspective, what with her brain stalling out every time she thought ‘Devil’. She wanted so badly to believe him. To have it all be okay. For Him to be _him,_ the eccentric nightclub owner who buried a good heart under a bon vivant mask. Instead, what she’d found was the Devil lurking under the guise of an innocuous playboy.

“But I did run…” she said, ruefully. _Such a pointless exercise._

“Quite the rational response, Detective.” He hazarded another glance in her direction. “Although, I’m not sure we can say the same thing about your decision to return Vimrol to me, much as I appreciate the gesture.”

“Vimrol?”

“He’s fine, by the way. I am certain you worried.”

_Oh. Her stalker._

Silence stretched again. 

“The tails were for your protection. And mine.”

Chloe found she had no appetite for tea. “What do you mean, ‘yours’?”

Lucifer looked pained. 

“Hell is not an _easy_ place to rule, Detective.” He sipped the whiskey. “The coups, assassination attempts, and rebellions are nearly constant. Apparently my presence isn’t appreciated there, either.” He scoffed. “But when I-- when I ‘arrived,’ it wasn't exactly voluntary — literally the end of a very long fall. I had already lost everything.” Lucifer flexed his hand, as though lost in the memory of distant pain. When he spoke again his voice was raw. “It was… unpleasant. Unpleasant, but effective: There is strength in having nothing to lose, a unique kind of invulnerability.”

Chloe thought for a second, trying to work out what He was saying.

She thought of a quiet evening, the two of them standing in her living room. _It appears you make me vulnerable, too._

How very long ago that seemed. Had he meant it? How could a simple human woman have that kind of impact? Surely he meant something else, something larger in scope...

“So, you're saying that because you like… Earth, that… what? That now you have something to lose? I-- I thought you’d retired from...”

“Hell?”

She looked up, then, and nodded. Grateful that he hadn’t made her say it.

“Celestial realms don’t really offer retirement plans, Detective. I may have left Hell, but it remains mine to command so long as I live.”

 _As long as he lives?_

“But, aren’t you immortal?”

“At the moment? Probably not.”

Chloe had hoped to get some clarity from this conversation, but at this point the questions were piling up faster than the answers.

“What do you mean, ‘probably not’?”

“Well, for starters, one celestial being can harm another, as can weapons forged of Heaven or Hell, so there’s always a bit of fine print inherent in the concept. But lately, under certain conditions, my immortality - such as it is - has been… fading.”

“Fading?”

“You did shoot me, Detective. You’ve seen fire harm me, ironic as that may have been.”

She remembered. Just as she remembered his command: _"Finish it."_ She looked at him, then, wondering if she had enough courage to ask the next question. He’d set her up for it, so it stood to reason he was willing to answer. She swallowed.

“Lucifer, what are the conditions?”

His smile was fond. “Only one, really: you.”

She sat back with alarm, sloshing the now-tepid tea. “Me?”

“Mmm-hmm,” Lucifer said, taking another sip of whiskey, his eyes sharp on her face over the rim.

“But,” Chloe’s head was spinning, “Wouldn’t you want me dead, then? Or at least be avoiding me?”

It was the wrong thing to say; unwise to remind an apex predator that he was better off having her killed. Truth be told, she hadn’t meant to utter the thought aloud. She was just so used to sharing her mind with him.

Lucifer closed his eyes and sucked in a breath, only reopening them after a long exhale. His gaze stayed down.

“No.”

“No?” 

He looked at her then, his eyes haunted. “Never. Detective, I--”

So, of course, the elevator dinged. 

“I said _not now,_ Mazikeen.” Lucifer bit out -- and Chloe wasn’t imagining the way his growl set the tea service to clattering.

Unfazed, Maze held her ground. “You also demanded to know the minute Heaven made a move. Which is it, _My Liege?_ ”

Lucifer’s eyes snapped to Maze, his entire demeanor shifting to business. “Report.”

“Malrock is destroyed.”

Observing intently as she was, Chloe caught the flash of crimson in Lucifer’s eyes, before he shut them in chagrin. Whoever - or whatever - Malrock was, it meant something to Lucifer to lose him.

“How?”

“Unknown. Clean beheading while on perimeter patrol. No witnesses.” 

“The hounds?”

“Confirm angelic presence.”

“That isn’t Michael’s style.”

“Something new?”

“I will view the scene personally.”

Maze tucked her chin, something between acquiescence and a bow.

Lucifer turned back toward Chloe, regret etched plainly in his face. “You are the lynchpin, Detective, though I don’t have time to explain it to you properly. Either you allow me to provide sufficient protection to keep you out of all of this, or you will very quickly find yourself in the middle of my downfall, willingly or otherwise.”

“Lucifer--” _How could he ever think she’d willingly aid in his downfall? Avoid him, certainly. But that?_

“I’d understand your choice, either way.”

Maze chuffed in disgust. 

“Because of the conditions?”

Lucifer nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“And Malrock’s murder is an act of war?”

“Most likely. Hard to tell with demons.” From the peanut gallery, Maze scoffed.

“Then I’m going with you.”

“Excuse me?” The pure incomprehension on his face made her heart twinge.

“I’m going with you. To evaluate the scene? With stakes this high, you’ll need a second set of eyes.”

His face softened. “Detective, Malrock died in the middle of a demon encampment.”

The idea made Chloe blanche, but she soldiered through. “Well, you’ve been advocating for protection...”

Maze interjected, looking to Lucifer. “Not that I care, but your dickweed brother was pretty clear regarding _his_ expectations.”

Lucifer just shrugged. “He can try his hand at running Hell whenever he bloody well wishes. I’ll not impinge the Detective’s free will, and I’m certainly not a narc.”

“What of their visual surveillance?”

Lucifer looked affronted. “The hexes will hold, Mazikeen. My presence should be enough to obscure things en route, so long as we forego the convertible.”

“Fine, whatever.” Maze said, tramping toward the elevator.

Lucifer didn’t budge. Instead, he turned to Chloe, “Are you quite certain, Detective?”

Chloe nodded.

She was done hiding her head in the sand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know your thoughts. There were so many ways this chapter could have unfolded, I genuinely struggled to find the one that felt right. Ditto on the characterizations. And - as always - thank you so much for reading!


	12. Encampment

Being in the elevator together was still awkward. More so when they stopped at the first floor, Lucifer’s arm holding the door for her. 

“I’ll meet you out front. Probably the Maserati.”

It took a second for Chloe to realize that this was his half of their deal. Safe, solitary passage back to the piano. The aftertaste of her own suspicion and distrust rose up with bile as her stomach seized. _I’m not being fair to him._

“It is fine, Lucifer. I’ll just follow you to your car.”

He gave his head a short shake. “As you said, Detective, I stick by my deals.”

Sighing instead of rolling her eyes, Chloe stepped forward. She was clear of the lift when she heard his voice at her back. 

“If you change your mind, just text. I’ll understand.” 

And her heart broke a little.

***

 _Devil,_ Chloe reminded herself, as she exited the building. _No sympathy for the Devil. Not yet._

Because, really, nothing had been explained. For all she knew, she was just getting wrapped up in his charisma... again. 

But they had also been partners and a crime had been committed.

_Devil._

_Devil._

_Devil._

“DVLISH” -- she would have recognized the black SUV even without the gaudy trident symbol. That custom license plate was one-hundred percent Lucifer. 

Chloe couldn’t help but smile, hearing Ella’s voice in her head. “Man, he is really committed to that role!”

_If only she knew._

The Detective took a deep breath and climbed into the Devil’s car.

They drove in silence. Chloe trying to gather her thoughts. She would dearly like to know what he would have said, had Maze not interrupted. But also...

“Where are we headed, anyway?”

Lucifer grimaced. “Skid Row, I’m afraid.”

Chloe did a double-take. “The pillar connecting Heaven to Earth is in the middle of the largest homeless enclave in North America?”

“Makes people shifty, the vortexes. Humans have been actively shunning the area since it was first settled.”

“First settled?”

“Well, it did have a rather interesting streak of popularity in the 1800’s when everything went all brothels and saloons. Easier to deal with that much reality when one is drunk, I suppose.”

“You suppose?”

“Have you not seen how much work it is for me to get properly sloshed, Detective?”

She hadn’t really thought about it. Things were silent for a beat.

“I apologize for who I will be when we get there.” Lucifer said grimly.

Chloe’s heart rate skyrocketed. “What—“ 

_No that was wrong._

“Who will that be?” She asked, breathlessly, visions of red flesh crowding her mind.

Lucifer sighed. “The disgruntled ruler of a very unenlightened realm.”

“Oh.”

His mouth set into a grim line.

“Speaking of that, where’s Maze?”

“Likely there already, thanks to the motorcycle.”

“Oh.”

Lucifer hazarded a glance, face softening. “You don’t have to go.”

“No, no, I’m fine.”

He looked away. “Please don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Lie to me.” He said, spitting the word out like a curse.

“Lucifer—“ Chloe scrambled for footing in the conversation, “I— I really can do this. I’ll be okay.”

His only response was a measured breath, in and out. 

Chloe flailed about for a new topic. “I’m sorry for shooting you.”

If anything, Lucifer’s posture grew more rigid.

“Another rational choice, Detective. Certainly no need to apologize. After all, it was to be expected.” He wasn’t looking at her now, his voice quieter. “You have always been quite adept at catching monsters.”

_Is that how he saw it?_

Chloe scoffed. “Are you kidding?”

To her left, the Devil just shrugged. “I already told you, Detective, the fault is mine. I— I was wrong to Speak.”

Chloe could hear the capital in the way he said it, echoes of the strange language still enthralling and terrifying, even just in memory. She felt small.

“Is that what happened?”

Lucifer flinched. “I wasn’t thinking clearly. Please accept my apologies.”

She remembered the cruelty in his voice as he’d faced her gun. _“Come to dig my heart out with a spoon?”_

_He’d been so certain, so desperate, and so full of pain._

“Lucifer, what were you thinking? Why on earth would you order me to kill you?”

He scrubbed a hand over his face, obviously uncomfortable. “It was a misunderstanding.”

_A what? How?_

Chloe decided to let it go. For now. “Okay.”

The silence had returned to awkwardness. Chloe barreled through. “You’re all right now? It is healing?”

She watched as some of the tension left his shoulders. “Right as rain, Detective. Not to worry.”

“Where did I get you?”

At this, he turned a genuine smile her way. “It appears that you have winged the Devil.”

“Which arm?”

“My right.”

 _The one already slashed and bleeding after his fight with Mar—Cain. No wonder she hadn’t been able to find the wound._ Guilt roiled. 

She took a quick inventory, his right side, conveniently facing her while he drove. His movements seemed natural and unhindered, his driving still much too fast.

“You heal quickly.”

“A requirement of the job, I’m afraid.”

“Oh.”

They couldn’t go thirty seconds without some reminder of his true identity popping out. She sighed, trying to control the wild beating of her heart. _Had it always been this way? Had she just not noticed?_

Lucifer parked the car. 

“Speaking of the job… do try to stay half a pace back when we’re out there. It might do something to curb the rumors.”

_Rumors?_

But their doors were already being opened. Chloe looked out at a homeless man with incongruously perfect posture. As she stepped out she heard a murmur at Lucifer’s door, “My Lord, it is an honor--”

“Quite.”

And then she - and the demon escorts - were jogging to keep up with Lucifer’s long stride. The unique odor of skid row rose up to meet her: unwashed bodies, urine covered sidewalks, despair. As they passed, other “residents” stood to attention, their posture incongruous with the setting. Tension hung heavy in the air. Chloe blanched, realizing just how many demons the encampment held. They were interspersed seamlessly with the “normal,” tweaked out population of Skid Row. Surrounded didn’t even begin to cover it. Satan’s army was making a huge show of strength. And a huge show of loyalty and respect, if all the ramrod-straight spines were any indication — no wonder Heaven was pissed.

Unless Heaven’s armies were even bigger.

_Just what was the scale of the war, anyway?_

Lucifer didn’t spare a glance for his soldiers, though surely he felt their gazes. _Does this mean war?_ Satan was focused entirely on the corpse ahead. 

_How did he even know where to find the body?_

Chloe caught sight of Maze, standing guard. _Oh. That’s how._

The scene wasn’t taped off - human protocol obviously not a consideration - but it was still well-preserved. Almost as though Maze’s presence had cowed her fellow demons into keeping a wide berth. How did she do that? _And how was it possible that none of the humans present had called 911?_

The blood spatter had gone wide, creating an elegantly arched pattern that extended several feet out from where the body had fallen. Definitely a beheading, but not the kind Chloe normally encountered. This was too clean. She leaned forward to take a better look: a single blow, perfectly executed—

“No tearing at the point of impact, definitely angelic.” Lucifer stated. Chloe just looked at him, off balance as he took the lead in the investigation. The smell of fresh blood filled her nostrils. Whatever had happened, it was recent.

“Makes me nostalgic for old times, eh Boss?” Maze enthused, pantomiming a sweeping blow.

Lucifer’s face pressed into a hard line.

“It wasn’t Michael. The spatter is counter-clockwise. This attacker was left-winged.”

“Like I said,” Maze continued, “just like old times.”

Chloe quirked an eyebrow. 

“Lucifer is left-winged.” Maze explained. “And tall enough to make the cut.”

Lucifer glared at Mazikeen.

The demon smirked knowingly. Chloe looked down at the beheaded demon, trying to imagine Lucifer with wings. Wings that somehow could do _that._

 _Shit, WINGS. Feathers. The loft._ Suddenly The Detective felt nauseous -- and not because of the body. _Lucifer had fought Cain’s men with wings._ She felt unsteady on her feet.

Breathing deeply, Chloe cleared her head. Focus on the case. It was just another case. This was LA, it was her jurisdiction. _The body looked human enough._ She could do this.

“Okay, so a tall, left-winged angel beheaded… his name was... Malrock?”

“Yes.”

“Were there any witnesses?”

“None.” Maze replied. 

“Is it is rare for an angel to be left-winged as it is for a human to be left-handed?”

Maze shrugged, looking to Lucifer. 

“No, but it isn’t exactly common— at least it wasn’t.”

Chloe nodded. _Of course. He had been banished for awhile. How—_

_Focus._

“How do we know the assailant’s height?”

“Angle of the incision, the cut tilts down as it finishes rather than running flat or upward.”

Chloe had the sickening feeling that Maze had seen all-to-many angelic beheadings. She looked at Lucifer, trying not to shiver.

_What was his life like, down there?_

“Who saw him last?” Lucifer asked.

A compact, swarthy “man,” stepped forward. “I did, my Lord.” 

Lucifer gestured to Chloe to proceed. The Detective took a deep breath. She’d lived with a demon, she could do this. 

“Did you notice anything different about his behavior lately?”

The demon looked to Lucifer.

“Answer.”

The demon shook his head, no. “Malrock liked being topside. He was honored to have a post close to our Lord.”

“Did he have any concerns about being in danger?” Chloe asked. “Aside from the obvious risks of the position?”

Again the demon shook his head.

“Was there any detection of angelic presence prior to this incident?” Lucifer asked.

It was Satan’s escort who spoke up this time. “None, my Lord.”

“And it was confirmed afterwards?”

“Yes, my Lord. Twice.”

“And he was in this exact spot, without witnesses because...?”

“Perimeter patrol, my Lord.”

Lucifer’s eyebrow shot up. “Solo?”

“His insistence, my Lord.”

Lucifer held his escort’s gaze. The demon shifted his weight under the scrutiny, breaking eye contact. 

“Orders are to be followed without exception, as you know. Ensure that it is so.”

“Absolutely, my Lord.”

“See that I am not disappointed.”

The demon quailed, but held his ground. “Yes, my Lord.”

“Who was he? What was his role?” Chloe asked.

Both demons threw Lucifer a confused look before Lucifer’s escort answered, “This is Lieutenant General Malrock. He was patrolling the perimeter as part of a larger revele inspection.”

Chloe glanced at Lucifer. _Oh. No wonder Lucifer had been upset. This wasn’t just a field grunt. Taking out a General would absolutely constitute an act of war._

Chloe looked at Maze. “When was he found?”

Maze huffed as though Chloe was missing something obvious. “I told you: not more than a minute before I informed His Infernal Majesty.”

That earned her another glare from Lucifer.

Chloe thought for a minute. “So broad daylight.” She looked back to Lucifer. “Not immediately after your brothers’ visit, either. Which begs the question, why now?”

“Why indeed.” Lucifer mused.

“Crime of opportunity, perhaps?”

The grim line was spreading back across Lucifer’s face. “Perhaps.”

“He was in a leadership role. Surely someone was dissatisfied with a decision.”

“If so, I will root them out.” Maze snarled.

Chloe wasn’t sure which of her remaining questions were appropriate to ask. She wished Ella were there, to share insights from the scene and offer a more thorough interpretation of the blood spatter.

“Mazikeen, see that the scene is documented -- secure samples for the hounds. Report back to me when you are finished. Bring Hvlech.”

Maze again ducked her head in that certain nod. Lucifer turned to Chloe, “Anything else you’d like to review before we depart?”

Chloe’s mind went blank. “Do we need to notify next of kin?” she asked.

“The General will handle it.” 

“Oh.”

_No wonder Lucifer hated the mundane — he really did have people._

Chloe wondered if this “General” was Hvlech.

But the Devil was already striding back to the car. The Detective had to trot to keep up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so begins my first foray with case fic. Suggestions and feedback welcome. Thanks for reading!


	13. Vertigo

Relieved to be back in the relative privacy and quiet of Lucifer’s Maserati, Chloe relaxed, and waited for the world to stop spinning. But it was the internal vertigo of a woman whose entire world had been turned upside-down, then inside-out, then jettisoned forward at Mach Ten, and it wasn’t going away. 

Thoughts fired off in a zillion different directions, rabbit holes of curiosity… of dread. Chloe felt a headache coming on.

And still the Devil sat beside her.

The Detective tried to swallow and felt her throat dry. It was as though she’d been so focused on keeping it together that she’d disconnected from herself and was only slowly coming back. A demon murder investigation? What had she been thinking? _Still so arrogant, Decker._

“You don’t… Do you have any water handy?” she rasped.

Lucifer’s brows knit together for a second before he reached into his breast pocket and pulled out the flask.

Chloe’s first reaction was to politely decline. _But the hell with it._

_Drinking the Devil’s whiskey._

As she handed back the flask, she found that, rather than the expected smirk, Satan’s face had drawn into a taut line. Matter of fact, now that she was paying attention, she could practically see the waves of tension rolling off his shoulders.

Shoulders that hid wings.

_Oh God._

_No, not God!_

Her brain sputtered again. 

_Gah._

Swallowing successfully, Chloe let her eyes drift out the passenger window. _Get a grip, get a grip…_

Lucifer held his peace, uncharacteristically quiet. Chloe couldn’t tell if his tension was because he’d noticed her meltdown, because he had a dead general on his hands, or both.

Finally, she found her voice. “So, what now?”

“Now, Detective?” he asked, thawing his rigid pose somewhat. “You tell me.”

_Great._

“Who is Hvlech?”

“You’ve met him, my escort: the new Lieutenant General who will replace Malrock.”

“Oh.” He seemed civil for a demonic soldier, but competent enough. “Will it be war then?”

Lucifer let out a big gusty breath. “Seems prudent to eliminate The Fallen as suspects first.”

“The Fallen?”

He hazarded a quick glance her direction. “Yes, the part of the Host that Dad kicked out along with yours truly.”

“Oh.” Chloe gulped. Somehow she hadn’t wrapped her head around the scale of his fall -- that others had fallen with him. Lucifer always made it sound like such a personal affront.

“Most lost their Grace as they fell. But my wings came back, perhaps some of theirs did as well.”

_Grace?_

“So… so… How many suspects is that?”

“That are left-winged? Perhaps a couple hundred. But it is moot if they are wingless. The hounds will make quick work of it.”

“Hounds?”

“Hellhounds. They share some traits with Earthly bloodhounds and can track a scent with impressive accuracy.”

“Of course. Hellhounds.”

Lucifer’s adam’s apple bobbed. “I’d understand if you said it was too much, Detective. I know--”

“‘Human kind cannot bear very much reality’?” Chloe smiled ruefully. “They did make me read _some_ literature in high school.” 

The teasing felt good - like oxygen.

“Quite right.”

_He's probably right - I am in way over my head. But there's no way out but forward._

“I’d say I just need time, but we don’t have it. And answers are more helpful anyway, even if things just keep going deeper…” She sighed.

Beside her, the Devil shifted his weight. “You could ask me, if you’d like.”

“But can I trust you?”

There was frustration in Chloe’s voice, she knew it. She hoped it conveyed to Lucifer that she wasn’t insulting him, or doubting him per se, but that she was angry that she couldn’t fall back on their partnership, that the whole world - even their dynamic - was in flux. 

Satan exhaled slowly, gripping the steering wheel. He closed his eyes for longer than Chloe thought safe. 

The muted sound of road noise became a roar.

“I haven’t changed. Just because you believe me now, it doesn’t change who I am.”

Chloe’s frustration was spilling over. Her angst, her fear… an emotional implosion crystalizing in a single moment.

“But it doesn’t make sense! Why would _who you are_ bother with me at all?”

Lucifer’s answer was quiet. 

“Who else did I have?”

It took the wind out of her, even as Chloe’s instinct was to bristle at the possessiveness of “have.” _You don’t have me. I very kindly let your craziness into_ my _life._ But then her brain snagged on “did,” past tense, as if he’d already lost her.

Maybe he had. She’d run. She knew she wasn’t exactly taking this in stride.

The Detective looked at the Devil’s closed posture with new eyes. _“A third visit is more than I ever dared hope.”_ She reflected on his certainty that he’d never see her again, realizing that he was waiting for her inevitable exit - allowing it even - fully expecting that at some point it would all be too much and she would leave him.

_“If you knew the other side of me you would run.”_ How right he was. _But how can you run from the Devil? Or worse, from life-altering truth?_

Chloe had a momentary vision of her future as an alcoholic, drowning memories in a haze of booze. _No thank you._

“Oh.”

She flinched when the ringing of a phone sounded over the handsfree unit of the car. Lucifer quirked a resigned half smile and punched the button to answer.

“Speak.”

It was Maze’s voice. “The scene is documented. But, Lucifer, Baiganwadi and Rocinha report similar beheadings.”

Lucifer didn’t comment. 

Chloe said “So, it is coordinated, then?”

“Timing is sequential so it could still be a loner. I’m having each site documented, but - Lucifer - I’ll need support to get the blood samples here if the hounds are to be of use.”

“You shall have it. We’re pulling up to Lux now.”

He hung up without anything further.

But Chloe wasn’t ready to let the earlier topic drop. War would just have to wait.

“Lucifer,” she gestured futility, waving a hand in his direction, “you’re charming. You're, you're the most charming man - or being, I guess - in LA.” She was tripping over her words, but still he didn’t comment, didn't press an innuendo into the space after her compliment, didn't tease. “You can have anyone you want. Me, I’m nobody — I’m a middle-aged divorcee in mom jeans.”

He was shaking his head before she even finished. “No, Detective,” he said, turning to look at her directly, “you are the only person who ever took the time to truly know me.” He scoffed bitterly. “You were there for the interviews, you know how little the ‘best night of their lives’ means to the glitterati. And to the generations before them.” He sighed. “It isn’t your fault I held back.”

_And what a revelation to withhold._

But he hadn’t, not really. He’d told her so many times, in plain English. _“Chloe, I am the Devil.”_

 _Why does the Devil speak English?_ She forced the thought away. They needed to get through this.

“To be fair, you did tell me, didn’t you? I was just too arrogant—too headstrong—to believe you.”

_“Not to me.”_

Chloe cringed at the memory: arrogance indeed.

Lucifer scoffed dismissively. “Nobody has believed me for centuries. It isn’t just you, Detective, though you are indeed a woman of logic and reason. Everyone since the Age of Enlightenment has required proof.” He finished parking, looking down, “And the proof is terrifying.”

Chloe couldn’t help the shudder. She knew he noticed, that he somehow accepted the implied judgement as deserved. _Though it still hurt him._

She tried to wrap her head around the answer he was giving. Could she believe that Satan’s interest in her life was purely companionship? The entire notion seemed outlandish.

 _But who was friends with Satan? Hitler? Attila the Hun? An archdemon?_ She couldn’t see Lucifer sharing drinks with any of them. But how well did she really know him?

Looking for courage in her lap, Chloe said, “There is more to you than the guy I got to know.” _And I’m scared._

“Clearly.” Lucifer replied, and she didn’t know if he was answering her words, or her thoughts.

Her throat was dry again. “So, for a while at least, I think it is best if I can get my answers first hand.” She cleared her throat, not meeting his eye. “If… if that’s okay with you?”  
  
The Devil just nodded, adam’s apple bobbing.

Through her fear Chloe felt a twinge of compassion. “I’m not saying I won’t trust you ever — just that, given everything, I need to recalibrate. I only ever knew _Lucifer,_ okay? The… the _Devil_ is new to me.”

Unsure what else to say, the Detective grasped the handle and opened her door.

Still nodding, Lucifer followed quietly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter wasn't in my original plan (so I suppose it is a bonus of sorts), but it gets us where we need to be. And a line of poetry from T.S. Eliot (so double bonus). Thanks for joining me on Chloe's rollercoaster of emotion... I appreciate having you along for the ride. As always, feedback welcome.


	14. Wince

“You go on ahead, Detective,” Lucifer said, standing some distance behind her. “I’ll just be a minute.”

Chloe looked back at him, trying to get a read, but his face was impassive and blank.

“Uh, okay.” She said, unsure.

“Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be up presently.”

Nodding, Chloe continued toward the elevator, her mind swirling with insights and uncertainties. Perhaps she could find some paper in the penthouse -- she’d feel better if she could do a quick brain dump, get out of her head.

Half way through the elevator’s ascent Chloe heard a rumble -- and then the earthquake was in full swing. Normally, the Detective was as unmoved by earthquakes as the next LA local, scarcely bothering to duck and cover, but this had to register at least a 5 on the Richter scale. Lux creaked and moaned. The lights flickered. And, worse, the Detective knew she was in a terrible place to ride out a quake (especially if it was a roller) -- not only was it a historic building, but the nightclub had been built over a network of illegal tunnels. 

Reflexively, Chloe braced herself in a corner, feeling queasy as the elevator box swung within the shaft. She was preparing for the worst when, suddenly, everything lightened. The building’s earthquake retrofits kicked into gear and instead of shaking, Chloe felt the telltale sway of a structure equipped with seismic upgrades. Base isolation, if she had to guess. The detective laughed out loud: not even all the glossy highrises downtown could afford retrogrades of this calibre. But, as usual, the Devil spared no expense.

When the doors opened, she leaped out in relief, adrenaline still flowing. Satan’s home was dark and cool, instantly calming. 

Gathering her wits, the Detective noticed a few items that had fallen from Lucifer’s bookshelves during the quake. Stepping over to pick them up out of habit, she realized she’d never really paid any attention to his library, or the collection of artifacts that lined the shelves. All thoughts of the quake were suddenly gone. _Time to start paying attention now._

There were books - and manuscripts! - of all kinds, ranging from modern fiction to astrophysics, and those were just the titles in English. The Detective found herself wishing she knew more about literature, philosophy, and music so she could judge his collection - though many of the names were familiar: Chaucer, Hemingway, Twain. Pulling books out at random, she realized almost every tome was autographed, each book a window into a moment in Lucifer’s life. (A very long life, judging by the some of the covers.) There was even a section on theology - a topic she somehow felt certain he would have avoided. She found an elaborately bound King James Bible next to a first edition chapbook of poems by Elizabeth Barrett Browning - the same volume that Dan had given Chloe as an anniversary present, once upon a time. It was clear by the way the spines opened that the books had been read, mementos and sketches tucked between the pages.

Chloe tried to imagine Lucifer reading romantic poetry or a treatise on his brother, the Archangel Michael, but had to give up almost immediately. 

_More to him indeed._

The Detective swallowed; this was not the collection of a shallow playboy. 

In the end, it was the need to use the facilities that pulled her away from the library. It had been a long, fraught day and Chloe was still very much human. As she indulged in the Devil’s ridiculously opulent soaps, the Detective wondered what Lucifer’s choice of living environment said about the his true nature. Was it an authentic window, or the staging for a tightly orchestrated con? 

Chloe could plainly see Lucifer’s extravagance and tidy nature on display, and that jived with what she knew of him. The absence of photographs Chloe had always interpreted as a lack of meaningful relationships or a wish to keep the past behind him, but could it indicate a lack of connection? Loneliness? A habit pre-dating the invention of photography? His book collection certainly indicated a nostalgia and appreciation for past acquaintances - though to her knowledge none of those contacts had ever publicly owned up to knowing him. 

_What must that be like? For people to be ashamed to admit they had even met you? People you helped, people to whom you should matter._

Chloe had always seen the penthouse’s dark interior, flamboyant black sheets, and warm color palette as ‘bachelor pad on overdrive.’ But if she looked at it as the house of a king, it seemed almost understated in its restraint: all modern lines and tasteful surfaces. She wished she knew what life was like in Hell - or Heaven for that matter - so she could establish a baseline of what might constitute “normal” for a fallen angel. The lack of doors was certainly odd, but perhaps Satan was used to having attendants and didn’t have the same need for privacy? 

Speak of the Devil… he was back behind the bar when the Detective reemerged. 

“Hello Detective!” His false smile was bright. “Fancy anything before we go down?”

Chloe shook her head. “Maze will be there though, right?”

“Right.” He quirked a questioning eyebrow, face still an impassive neutral.

“Then... would you explain the covenant cut before we go? She and I didn’t really leave things on good terms yesterday.”

Now both his eyebrows were raised, but he obliged. “Well, when a demon and a devil really like each other…”

Chloe pulled out her best mom look, and the Devil sighed. 

“It is simple, really, Detective. Demons have no soul, no purpose. Unhinged from eternity, they exist only in the continuous present, doubly susceptible to the more primal urges. Most are content with their lot, but a few desire more. I can’t give them purpose - creation _ex nihilo_ being exclusively Dad’s thing. The best I can do is allow those who wish to enter a covenant with me. The cut binds their will to mine, filling the demon with a sense of My Purpose, My Will. Purpose by proxy. Maze cannot harm you because I desire you to be safe. She can’t betray me without betraying herself. We share a purpose. The bond is absolute.”

“That’s why you forgave her so quickly? Because she gave up her free will?”

For the briefest moment anger flashed across Lucifer’s face, but the stony facade returned quickly. “I would never allow that.” He said woodenly. “She freely chose to re-enter the covenant.”

Not sure where the courage came from, Chloe pressed, “Was it that or die?”

“No.” His tone was emphatic. “It was that or sit out the fight.”

“Oh.”

Chloe thought about it for a moment. “What happens to me if you change your mind?”

Lucifer blanched at the insinuation. 

“Detective, I would never allow harm to come to you, surely you know that?”

“Lucifer, you had me drugged and tossed in a creepy, secret cell that you keep in your basement. You could probably destroy me with a thought. So tell me: what happens if you change your mind?”

His facade cracked. The devil’s shoulders slumped and he raked a hand over his bedraggled face. “Nothing, Detective, I swear it.”

They were both silent for a beat. 

Chloe dared to catch his eye. “So it comes back to trust again, huh?”

And the Devil winced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently, long weekends are good for writing. So happy Memorial Day everyone!  
> It is a short chapter, I know, but seemed better to post than make everyone wait... Questions raised should get answered in short order, if not exactly in this chapter. Enjoy!


	15. War Room

Chloe hadn’t thought to ask where “down” was, exactly. Turns out, it was the mysterious sixth floor, which featured - among other things - a sleek conference room with expansive views of the city. Based on the sounds emanating from inside, Chloe expected a hoard of angry demons to be waiting for them. _The Devil's War Room._

She quailed slightly before squaring her shoulders and braving it. _Deep breath._

Instead, what she found was Mazikeen, seated at the head of the table, flanked by Hvlech (still dressed as a homeless person) and another tall, leonine demon -- all of whom were leaning into a heated argument. An argument which ended the instant Lucifer entered the room. 

“As you were.” Satan said, nonchalantly forestalling their attempts to rise and kowtow. He folded himself into the seat across from his general and gestured for Chloe to be seated at his right.

“Detective,” Lucifer continued, pointedly framing his words in English, ”I believe you have had the pleasure of meeting everyone here except my brother, Azazel. Azazel represents The Fallen.” He turned to his brother, “Detective Decker specializes in punishing Earthly assassinations and will be joining us for the deliberations.”

Chloe did a double-take. _Angel?_

Azazel merely nodded in understanding, something tragic in his bearing. It triggered the memory in Chloe, something she had read during her ill-fated attempt to run from the Devil.

_“There is no repentance for the angels after their fall, just as there is no repentance for men after death.”_

_Was it true? How terrible would it be to live your life in eternal regret..._

“Continue General,” Lucifer said, gesturing to Maze.

Chloe gulped. _Maze was his General?_

“Thank you, My Lord.” 

It felt wrong, this respectful version of Maze. Wrong and terrifying. Maze was meant to be a wild thing, a tornado, a force of nature untamed by everything civilization could throw at her. And yet here she was being polite -- as though the being seated at Chloe’s left commanded Maze’s full respect. _Fear even._

Chloe felt the unpleasant swelling of deja vu: Maze’s behavior mirroring her memory of Mr. Nondescript’s obsequiousness on the dance floor at Lux. _It’s all true,_ she thought again, _Lucifer truly is the monster feared by all other monsters._

And just that one little thought had Chloe there again, back in the loft, the menace of His presence creeping into her very soul. The smell of sulphur and heat…

Next to her, Lucifer’s chair creaked as he put his feet up on the table, leaning back at roguishly dangerous levels. He looked like an overgrown teenager.

_Not a monster. Something… what was the word?_

_Maybe it was “Devil.”_

Chloe thought of the inscription in the chapbook of poems. “To the esteemed Mr. Morningstar. How grateful am I? Let me count the ways.” It had been signed “Lizzy.”

Chloe looked back at Lucifer, lost. 

_Who are you?_

Unanswered, her eyes roamed across the table, toward her former roommate. She was enthralled by the lethal aura surrounding Maze. There was something potent about this version of the demon. Something fascinating in the way she channeled the energy that usually bumped and jostled around her in a chaotic swirl. Chloe hadn’t known Maze was capable of such focus -- and they’d been roommates for months; she had thought they knew each other. 

And though the Detective had indeed known that Maze was Lucifer’s “right hand demon,” she’d assumed it was a metaphor for personal assistant or something: a frivolous role to match his frivolous persona. To know that she was feuding with Hell’s general - while consistently seeming to offend Hell’s King - made Chloe’s legs feel numb. 

_What the hell am I doing here?_

But what were the options? Running had been a bust. And Lucifer abhorred deceit, so pretending everything was okay was out. And, even as fragile as things were between them, she did trust Lucifer more than his brute of a brother. So siding with Heaven was out too.

The Detective held in a shudder, becoming aware of Maze’s voice speaking: “The hounds await Your command; the hoards are impatient and clamor for retaliation. Your Majesty would do well to take pre-emptive action or consider moving forward with haste.”

Lucifer smugly pulled two vials from his jacket pocket, tossing them casually across the table to General Mazikeen. “Why not both?”

Maze snatched the vials out of the air, answering with a devilish grin. “Oh? What did you have in mind, Sire?”

“That depends on whether Azazel has been successful.” Lucifer said, gathering his feet back under him and leaning forward to stare pointedly at his brother.

The fallen angel nodded, clearing his throat and continuing with stilted formally. “I am pleased to inform Our Lord that of the 223 left-winged Fallen, only 13 failed in accounting for their whereabouts.”

_Even his brother fears him._ Chloe thought, with sympathy. _What a messed up family._

“All 223 will submit to the hounds. Test the 13 twice. No mistakes.”

“As you wish. But, if my Lord would consider the indignity --”

“Indignity is not news,” Lucifer snapped. “We are fallen. Lead by example, if you must.”

Lucifer looked to Mazikeen - a clear dismissal of his disappointing sibling - while Chloe tried to catch her breath after the sudden eruption. “How quickly will testing be completed?”

“Depends. Do we have an open portal?”

“You have Azazel. Send Hvlech with him to supervise.”

Hvlech looked decidedly green. Azazel’s grimace deepened. Mazikeen smirked at Azazel. “I’ll expect your return in no more than 15 minutes, Earth time.” 

Chloe recalled the way Michael, Gabriel and Sarathiel’s visit had impacted the demons in Lucifer’s ‘court’ so viscerally. _Was the presence of angels painful for demons? How did that work when it came to The Fallen? To Lucifer himself? Didn’t they all live in Hell, too?_

Azazel was nodding meekly, obviously dreading his task.

Maze turned to Lucifer. “And after?”

“Surely my ‘Best Lieutenant’ has something in mind.”

Maze gestured at Hvlech to proceed. 

“If the traitor is found among The Fallen, punishment should a swift and visible lesson to others. However it is more likely these are external attacks, in which case Our Lord must decide whether it constitutes an act of war. The hoard is eager to serve, ready for either eventuality.”

Lucifer nodded. “Dismissed. Notify me of all developments. Mazikeen, remain.”

Azazel and Hvlech rose, bowing, and departed swiftly. 

“You still don’t trust Azazel, huh?” Maze queried, settling back into the version of herself that Chloe knew.

“Right-winged or not, his resentment has not abated. And, as you know, The Fallen go their own way.”

“Feathery bastards.”

“Speaking of… We will only have one chance to determine whether or not my illustrious twin sanctioned the attacks. How do you plan to go about it?”

Maze began twirling a blade in thought. “The Host will almost certainly send Gabe back again. He has a weakness for you and his poker face is pathetic. You can use that to Your advantage - though he may not know anything of value. We’ll need the hounds as backup.”

Lucifer laughed. “And how, Mazey, do you intend to deploy hounds? You don’t know where or when the Host will arrive. And we both know that the self-righteous pricks consider themselves too good to mix with the Infernal.”

Up to this point, Chloe had been quiet: a fly on the wall. But an idea had been forming in her mind. “Couldn’t you just invite them?”

Both pairs of eyes turned to her in surprise.

“I mean, it is how dinner parties work. At… at least for humans. You take turns initiating.” She felt her cheeks burn. “Never mind, it was silly…”

“No, no, my clever Detective, you may be onto something. A party could be just the thing we need.”

“A… a party?”

“You could position it as an extension of goodwill,” Maze said, a gleam in her eye.

“And create an environment where they cannot refuse Infernal company without risking the pending negotiation.”

“Oh, Detective! This will be positively riveting: a grand banquette, a murder mystery, and a family reunion all in one.” Lucifer looked at Chloe with obvious pride. “My siblings will _hate_ it.” 

He turned the sunshine of a full smile onto the Detective. “We absolutely must invite the Brittneys.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, despite the fight this chapter put up, I do think we're making progress! Trying to imagine Lucifer and Maze in these roles stretched me (I'd make a terrible soldier or strategist). Hopefully I got close enough. 
> 
> Fingers crossed my muse holds and I can get ya'll to the good stuff soon. As always, thanks for reading. Happy Weekend!


	16. Rubble

Chloe was still processing the idea that a party was somehow the antidote to impending supernatural warfare when Lucifer leaped up from the table, startling Chloe with his sudden movement. 

A bit of the glee fell off Lucifer’s face, but it quickly softened into concern. “Will you be okay waiting here, Detective? I’d like to give Patrick a bit of a heads up.”

Chloe nodded, dumbly.

“Mazikeen, three days?”

Maze shrugged. “Whenever.”

“Brilliant. Play nicely. I’ll be back in jiffy.”

And he was gone.

The Detective blinked and looked at the General. Mazikeen met Chloe’s gaze defiantly.

In Lucifer’s absence, the Detective felt vulnerable and exposed - a side effect she would have scoffed at just a few days ago. Alone with Maze, she began to understand what Hell must have been like before a fallen angel landed in its midst: barbaric, untamed, violent. Because, for all the horror Lucifer could project with his infernal side - and Chloe wasn’t about to minimize the sheer terror of it - there had been a focused discipline to His presence.

That and the fact that, no matter what else she believed, she was certain he would protect her with his life.

_When had she started trusting him again?_

Maze’s aura held none of Lucifer’s restraint. Hers was a primal energy, a force meant to destroy: wrath having found a willing vessel. _‘Doubly susceptible to their primal urges’ indeed._ For demons, it seemed, justice would be nothing more than an afterthought, if anything. Collateral damage was not a concern. Plus, if Chloe were to wager, she’d say Maze currently saw her more as a threat than a fragile human in need of protection (let alone care). Had their supposed friendship really meant nothing?

“Still pussing out, huh, Decker?”

The words brought Chloe out of her stupor. “What? I’m here. I’m--”

“Barely keeping your shit together.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Was I supposed to just take it all in stride?”

“It’s not like anything has changed.”

“What?”

_She was literally sitting across the table from the personification of wrath. How had things not changed?_

“I’m still me, Lucifer is still Lucifer.”

Chloe looked down. “I know Maze. And I did have him explain a covenant cut to me. But binding yourself to him? It is… a bit weird. And… just a lot to take in. Plus, what you did - human or not - it wasn’t right.”

“Oh, and I suppose you’re the judge of that?”

“No, I--” 

_I don’t trust my judgement at all right now, actually._

“What if it saved a dozen lives? A hundred? Can you actually imagine Lucifer trying to do this with anyone else by his side? Can you imagine how messy it would get? Do you have any idea what is at stake? Hell, God could just decide to up and end it all and then where would your precious morals be?”

Chloe wished the floor would just swallow her up entirely. She wasn’t even close to being settled in her own mind. She definitely wasn’t ready to debate an infernal creature. Regardless, Chloe supposed some things were still true.

“I’ve never really been an ‘ends justify the means’ kind of person, Maze.”

“Well, wake up and take a stand. Lucifer isn’t going to wait forever.”

Chloe was lost. “What? Wait?”

“For you to decide whose side you are on. And it isn’t fair to Him, with all this damn pressure, to constantly have to adjust to accommodate your whims, your precious safety.”

“I-- I haven’t asked him to do that, Maze.”

Maze scoffed. “Like that matters. I know torture when I see it. And so does Lucifer, whether he wants to admit it or not.” The demon scowled. “How is what you’re doing any more ‘right’ than what I did? Limbo is a terrible place!”

_So Limbo was real too?_

Chloe had just opened her mouth to reply when the air shuddered and Azazel and Hvlech reappeared. 

_Great, more emotional whiplash._ Chloe gaped. _Could angels teleport?_

Unconcerned by the interruption. Maze lifted one eyebrow in Chloe’s direction. “Pick. A. Fucking. Side.”

Then the demon swirled her chair to face the new arrivals. “Report.”

Hvlech straightened. “As expected, the traitor is not within our company. All 223 passed inspection by the hounds.”

Maze accepted the report with a nod. “Azazel, put the 13 on notice: they will be joining you upstairs in a few days.”

Azazel looked perplexed, but nodded without voicing a question.

“Dismissed.”

At their departure, Chloe’s antsiness grew. Lucifer still wasn’t back, but she’d already stayed much longer than anticipated, longer than was wise -- and she didn’t particularly want to continue this fight with Maze. _What time was it, anyway?_

“I should get going as well.”

“Right. Got a full schedule of running away and chickening the fuck out ahead of you, huh?”

“Listen, Maze. I’m sorry I’m not taking this as well as you’d like. But I can’t just magically fix it. Some things take time.” At the end of her rope. Chloe’s blood began to boil. “And some things require both sides to mend.”

It really was time to get out of there. Chloe was past done with the revelations, and the coping (and the pressure to cope!), and the holding it all together.

“Tell Lucifer goodbye for me?”

“Whatever Decker.” 

Chloe fumed all the way down to the garage. _How dare Maze accuse her of cowardice - this was the bravest thing she’d ever done!_ Anyone else would tell her she was crazy for even trying.

She took a breath. _At least Lucifer understood that._

A half-dozen steps out of the elevator and the Detective stopped dead in her tracks. 

The garage floor was an eruption of cracks and rubble, the epicenter of which was slightly to the left of a pristine, black Maserati. 

Exactly where Lucifer had been standing when they’d parted ways. 

She remembered how the elevator had creaked and swayed. _Could the Devil cause earthquakes? Or had somebody tried to smite the Devil?_ He hadn’t indicated anything, either way. In fact, he’d made no mention of it at all.

_Typical._

Limbs numb, mouth dry, Chloe slid down the nearest pillar and tried to breathe. Sitting felt like a show of weakness, but she was done -- done! -- And there was no one around to observe the indulgence anyway. 

Chloe glared at the cracks for a long while. 

_Who was this being? What had He done to cause a freaking earthquake? What did it really mean to be the Devil? For an archangel to fall? For Heaven and Hell to go to war?_

_Had He sent her away to protect her or was he still keeping secrets?_

It was a while before she pulled herself up off the floor and staggered to her car. 

And for all the day’s events, Chloe felt no closer to understanding. 

The universe was just too large.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the latest installment of my little submission to the fandom. It seems so modest in light of how many truly talented writers are active right now. I am beyond flattered that any readers even find time for my little work. Steerpike13713, NotOneLine, DeiaMatias, Bebec, violent_ends, matchstick_dolly, stickdonkeys, Tavalah, wollfgang, Myria83, spirantization, Istuineth, and azure_iolite - I'm not sure I'd have survived this last month of quarantine without you. Thank you for sharing your creativity!
> 
> For the record, this chapter was a beast to write - not because it was hard, but because my muse has been completely distracted with party planning and, even better, the related fallout. But written it is, hallelujah. Let the good times roll!
> 
> Thanks for reading!!


	17. Invitation

She didn’t call. He didn’t text. If Maze or a minion was on guard duty, there was no evidence. But two days later, a calligraphed envelope was waiting in her mailbox. 

Handwriting that ridiculous could only be His. 

Apparently the party was still on, and Lucifer was going all out. On the back of the card she found a handwritten note:

_Detective,_

_I haven’t heard from you and hate to presume; please do not feel obligated to attend. The party was your idea and I would of course be honored to have you. It should be interesting, at a minimum. Please know that my intent is to extend an invitation (not a summons). Should you wish to come, a red dress would be on theme. There is a lovely shop at Melrose and Robertson that will have something on hand, should you be lacking. Ask for Geneieve and she’ll take care of everything._

_Your (hopefully) favorite Devil,_

_Lucifer_

It put a lump in her throat. Both because the idea made her nervous bordering on scared shitless and because he was so reticent about asking her. 

_Is this what temptation looks like? Handsome devils offering gowns and glamour..._

But no, surely Lucifer knew her better than that.

 _And had the Devil really just asked her to a dance?_ At least Chloe assumed there would be dancing, Lucifer never did anything by halves. 

_No, it was a political event. Probably just a lot of monologuing._

The idea did nothing to settle her stomach. 

_But was she going?_

A million questions crowded the Detective’s mind. _Would other humans be there? Was it safe? (Surely He wouldn’t invite her if it wasn’t safe?) Did she want to go?_

Chloe hadn’t been avoiding the Devil, per se. It was more that she needed to process. She’d pushed herself hard to make it through their last encounter and a little space afterwards had seemed prudent. The urge to run had at least subsided somewhat, even if didn’t feel remotely close to comfortable in his presence. At least she was less jumpy sharing LA with him.

Mulling things over, Chloe realized she’d failed to really think about it from His perspective: Her sudden departure and ensuing silence. _Had Maze even conveyed her message?_

_She should have checked._

Chloe had just been so caught up in things, sorting through her own questions. He’d given her a window into the infernal side of his life, that was true. And he hadn’t harmed her or allowed her to come to harm. But the few questions he’d answered had spawned more questions. In the end, she’d lost her grip on the flow of time. Reality had become a blur streaking across the background of her existential crisis.

Sitting at the kitchen table, the Detective tried to wrangle her thoughts, to be rational about the whole thing. So far, she was fairly certain that LA’s Resident Devil had no part in determining who went to Hell, which was comforting. But did he torture them? (She knew Maze did.) What was her position on that? _What was his?_ And what about his sudden occupation of Earth? Shouldn’t that be terrifying? 

Chloe was opposed to acts of hostility. But, on the other hand, it wasn’t like Lucifer to do something aggressive without cause. 

_Or at least it wasn’t like the Lucifer she knew. Was that the real him?_

__And if it was, why was he invading Earth now? Could it have something to do with Cain’s death? Lucifer had been worried about the repercussions from that…_  
_

__

__

She still had his text, and if she read between the lines it almost sounded as if he was hoping to avoid an all-out confrontation. He’d said that somehow she was the “lynchpin” - did that mean she was stuck in the middle of all of this no matter what she did? But why her? 

Even Maze had refused to answer. 

And then, there was the issue of the Devil’s extreme power. She’d been bowled over watching Lucifer throw a grown man through a window one-handed, but now she knew that he also had the power to form galaxies, to light the sun. Possibly to cause earthquakes. _Demiurge._ She was _nothing_ compared to that. A bug. An ant. It frightened her to be near something - or someone - so powerful. And that was when he wasn’t being malevolent - when his flesh wasn’t red, gnarled and reeking of brimstone. What was it about seeing him that way that set off such a primal, uncontrollable fear? _Was it the kind of thing she could get used to, or would it be between them forever?_

_Perhaps she had just been startled._

_But those eyes..._

Chloe cut off her thoughts, looking at Lucifer’s card, so pedantic compared to life and death slant of her inner monologue. It was stylish down to the very texture of the paper. _So very Lucifer._ The too-good-to-be-true perfection of the invitation dredged up lines from _The Book of Common Prayer:_

_“From the crafts and assaults of the Devil; from thy wrath, and from everlasting damnation, good Lord deliver us.”_

Chloe chuckled. She had been so terrified the first time she'd read that. But this invitation was probably the closest Lucifer would ever get to crafts. She could see his mock horror in her mind. 

It was comforting to think that perhaps not everything written about Him was correct.

 _But was God’s wrath even more terrifying than Satan’s?_ Chloe shivered. She honestly couldn’t imagine anything more frightening than the being she had met in the loft. 

Except, maybe, an entire lifetime of not knowing.

It wasn’t, Chloe realized, whether she wanted to go. She needed to be there. To dig herself out from under the enormous pile of uncertainty that was her life.

 _Crafts of the Devil, eternal damnation, and wrath of his omnipotent dad be damned._

She couldn’t live like this, with half answers. As much as it frightened her, Chloe was curious. She’d never been one to shy away from a mystery. And this party would bring together Lucifer’s siblings from both Heaven and Hell -- when else would the Detective have the opportunity to so thoroughly gauge her new reality? To observe - and even interview - those who had known him both as Heaven’s brightest and as Hell’s king? 

_Could she work up the courage to go?_

Chloe’s mouth ran dry at the thought. Parties had never been her scene. 

But she was a detective, damnit! There was a murder to solve. She’d managed okay at the demon encampment. And Lucifer was still her partner. She couldn’t just abandon him. Right?

Well. 

She was not going in some ridiculous couture gown, that much went without saying. The red cocktail dress in the back of her closet would suffice, thank you very much.

* * *

  


The Detective arrived early, finding comfort by treating the entire escapade like a case instead of the Universe’s most exclusive social event (or worse. her new normal). Ducking past the “closed for private event” sign - slightly surprised that the door wasn’t better guarded - Chloe marched straight into Lux. She purposefully did not give herself time to think about it, immediately taking stock of her surroundings.

The nightclub had been completely transformed.

For one thing, it smelled like heaven. Vines and garlands dripped from the high ceilings, dangling over twenty feet down to mix with potted arrangements below and create the illusion that Chloe had wandered into a tropical paradise. Floral arrangements graced banquet tables with fountains of - was that champagne? - in the wings. Even the walls were covered in verdant, vertical sculptures of delicate flowers twisting into sculptural greenery. Chloe hadn’t been aware that you could even _do_ that with plants.

She tried not to think of how much it had all cost.

Clearly, it wasn’t finished. Workers literally swarmed across the dance floor augmenting lighting, adjusting stage risers, and doing God only knows what else.

_Err, Devil only knows what else._

Nothing Hollywood had ever done held a candle to this - and Chloe had been to the Golden Globes. (Once, with her mother, when she was small.)

_Shit._

At least there were humans around. Or so Chloe assumed. After all, she doubted it was demons providing the floral arrangements and audiovisual expertise. But then again...

_Where was the host?_

Chloe peered around, trying to be inconspicuous. _Was she hoping to find him, or avoid him?_

The question was moot. Satan was waltzing out of the back room, a gorgeous - and obviously infatuated - redhead leaning into his side. 

Chloe stiffened, not so much from fear as from a sudden and visceral jealousy. The woman obviously had no idea she was flirting with the Lord of Hell, and Chloe yearned for the easy comradery, the blithe acceptance, the simple thrill of his arm about her waist. They had been so close to being something, before everything.

The twinge only intensified when Lucifer caught sight of the Detective. His body language closed off instantly as he pulled away from his companion.

No, things between them were not simple anymore. 

He leaned over and said something in the redhead’s ear. She giggled and he excused himself. 

_This is crazy._ Chloe reprimanded herself. _Even if he wasn’t the Devil, he’s still the consummate playboy. It would never work._

_Why wouldn’t these feelings turn off? Was something wrong with her that she was still capable of feeling this way, or was it to do with his being the embodiment of Temptation?_

“Hello Detective” 

She noted that he hadn’t taken a single step in her direction, though his eyes roved her entire person with an unexpected thirst.

To her eternal mortification, Detective Chloe Decker heard the sound of her own squeak in response. 

“Hi.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Props to Chloe. (I mean, showing up is 9/10ths of the battle, right?) 
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading and for everything everyone does to make this fandom so much fun. I'll work to get more posted ASAP.


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